His Name was Billy Mischief
by mairzydozydiveydoats
Summary: An AU origins fic for Bill. In the year 1928, a unique young man named William M. Cipher arrives in Gravity Falls. After a year, neither he nor the sleepy little Oregon town would ever be the same again. The following is an account of Billy's time spent living there, in his own words. Rated T for language, graphic violence, suggestive scenes and adult situations.
1. One: Mosquito Bait

**Hello, fanfiction peeps!**

**I've been writing this story for tumblr and a Gravity Falls forum I frequent. This version will, I hope, be the most "perfect" version. That being said, I'll probably be making little editations to this for a long time- getting rid of scenes that don't work, adding dialogue where it will add something, and so on. I'm also experimenting with the length of the chapters. In any case, I'm open to criticism to try to make things more smoother overall. In any case, I really don't mind it when people point out spelling/grammar/punctaution errors, as long as it helps me make this better.**

**The cover image is by the tumblr user hickory-tickory-tock. The thumbnail doesn't do her art justice so please go check out her blog!**

* * *

I ran away to join the circus when I was seventeen, just like everyone else.

No? Ah, well. I've always defied convention. Admit it though; you always wanted to join the circus when you were a kid. I'm living your dream and you're jealous of me! Come on, I don't blame ya, kid! I travel, I'm part of the show and everybody loves me, I'm more handsome than most of my traveling companions and the girls are all over me.

"Gah- help! The girls are all over me!" I choke out, waving an arm in the air. Not an easy fete with two lions on top of a person. One of the lionesses has my torso pinned under her bulk, and the other is pacing around me, red tongue peaking out, as if trying to decide which part of me is most delicious. A massive paw lashes out and she pins the arm to the ground. She stands up, looking down at me hungrily. My arm aches from the weight of the front of a full grown lion. I could get myself out of this…if only so many people weren't around. "Corduroy!" I call out.

"Girls, girls!" A large muscular man is pushing his way into the tangle of myself and lions. He wedges between the two of them and wedges them apart. The lions growl at him, but takes them both by the nap of the neck and _pulls _the monsters offa me like they're just a couple of tabby cats who get feed to much. They curl up like kittens in his grasp. Giant, killer kittens. He walks away with them.

Did I mention Corduroy is _huge?_

I stand up on the long wooden platform of the train station. If that had happened back in San Fran, people wouldn't have even looked up. They're too busy, in the city, to deal with some sap being eaten alive by big cats. But this is a small town, and thus, my misadventures had gotten the attention of a group of gawkers. These gawkers started to disperse, looking more disappointed than relieved. I can't miss an opportunity to show off, so I yell at them "If you think that's something, wait until you see the _real _show!"

One kid perks up. He's a teen like me, but younger, large spectacles sitting on his nose. His hair is so pale blond he resembles a little old woman more than a kid. "Is it about gettin' mauled by more animals?"

I look down at him grumpy expression "Puh-leaze," I say, crossing my arms "my skills extend far beyond getting mauled."

The universe apparently hates me, because a dark shape suddenly swoops down from the sky. Suddenly my face is full of wings and talons and as a medium sized bird attaches itself to my head. _Thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap! _It punches the top of my head several times with its beak. "Gah! Son of a- _woodpecker?! _Getoff, getoff, getoff!" I swing at it with my arms, trying to dislodge the demon bird.

"Cipher!"

I jump. Not three feet away from me is a round, red faced man whose black walrus mustache looks like something alive on his face, the way it wriggles furiously. He ignores the bird from hell and proceeds to spit fire at me. "What the hell are you doing?! You're supposed to be unpacking, not getting to know the local wildlife!"

The yelling of my employer sends the bird finally flying and I rub my head. I notice that the ringmaster is still watching me and I adjust my arm to salute him. "Aye-aye, captain!" I dart away as quickly as possible. I can hear the damn kid laughing his arse off as I make my way back to the luggage car. It's not until I get further up the platform that I realize what I just said. _Aye-aye captain?_ I smack my forehead. How am I going to prove to Renzo that I'm stage material when I talk like such a goof?

The performers carry their own personal luggage, but there's a number of stage props stored in the back car for me to get. Though by the time I get back there the railroaders have already thrown all the stuff out and left it there in a pile. I give a glare to the one of the overalled railroad workers who walks by, then pick a truck to take to the other side of the platform. At first I'm dragging the heavy trunk, but I spot a couple of cute local dolls with their eye on me. Suddenly I stop, reach for the trunk and, in a fluid motion, heft the heavy trunk over my shoulder.

Of course, like any magic show, it's all an act. I can feel the cold stone in my necklace under my shirt, guiding the motion. The trunk is being teleported subtly. I flash them a shit-eating grin. "Hello, ladies," I say, trying to be as smooth as possible. When I literally walk into the hairy chest of the animal tamer, I'm momentarily distracted from using my magic, and the heavy trunk falls onto my back. My expression becomes pained for only a moment before I lift it again with the amulet.

Corduroy is right in front of me. Randall Corduroy is a big guy with large muscles flaming red muttonchops. He's apologetic. "Cipher, are you alright, kid? I can't express how sorry I am about the girls. I don't even know they got out of their cages!"

Another thing about Corduroy: He's one of the few performers who actually doesn't treat the stage hands like dirt. It's refreshing even if his animals are a constant, bodily threat.

I try to shrug. It doesn't really come off as a shrug. Corduroy picks up a couple of trunks, one tucked under each arm. _Show off._ I think, and risk glancing at the dolls. Oh yeah, they're eating it all up…

"You're stronger than you look," he says approvingly and I say nothing. I know what he means. I'm a bit of bean pole- too tall to be as skinny as I am and and my face looks thinner with my out grown hair- almost down to my shoulders. I keep telling myself I'm going to cut it. I keep forgetting. I actually look kind of vagabondish, but I'm young enough to make it look _good_.

He sighs, sadly. I'm surprised and a little scandalized that he doesn't see the girls, who are waving coyly at him. "I just don't get it. My animals are well trained- really they are. It's like they go crazy whenever _you're _nearby."

"It's always been that way for me," I walk on ahead of him, tired of being overshadowed by this big six. I have skills he can't even imagine, if only I had a chance to show them off without people going bonkers. Nearing the gravel turnabout, I see a horse attached to a wagon waiting. On the road, that's all you see- wagons or pedestrians. Shoot, there must not be a single car in this town! I really feel far away from home.

Corduroy is keeping up with me. He's eyeing me like I'm large cake sitting out in plain view. I clarify "No, really. Animals hate me. Dogs, cats, birds…I got attacked by a woodpecker just a minute ago!" I can see he doesn't believe me, so I shrug it off. I don't need him to believe me.

Corduroy lifts an eyebrow "Cipher, this might sound like a weird question, but do you carry around raw bacon in your pockets?"

I let out a wild, deranged laugh before I realize that Corduroy's being serious. _Really? _"Why would I even do that?" Then "Check my pockets, pal."

He doesn't take me up on it, just like I thought he wouldn't, but I'm still a little mad that he would jump to such a conclusion. We get to the cart and pack our things in. I'm about to turn around and head back for more when I'm tackled from behind. _Wha? _Now what is it?! I'm tackled to the ground and patted down by large hands. Meaty fingers reach into my trouser pockets. When Corduroy is done, he shrugs and lets me up. I stare at him in horror.

"I had to check," he says with a shrug.

Did I mention liking his guy? He's completely screwy! Must come from wrestling big cats all day. I adjust my cabbie hat and glare at him, as I don't really have words right now. I go for another load, and pretty much keep repeating the process until the wagon is loaded up.

It's actually kind of a long ride to the center of town. The train station is so far out it's not on most maps of this place. I must say, I like the name of our new stop: Gravity Falls. Has a sort of irony to it.

It's midsummer and dry, and the horses hooves kick up dust and, before long, all of us are covered in a grimy layer. We reach our destination- a clearing just off the center of town, behind the cemetery. There is kind of a festive atmosphere as we're setting up the tent and the trapezes and the animal cages. No doubt my circus fellows are glad to be off those packed train cars and actually moving their legs. It's always nice to finally arrive somewhere. I've been traveling with the company for about two months now, and the routine has become second hand. The places and faces change slightly, but it's always the same.

But don't get me wrong. I still love it, it's just that, well maybe, you can say that the magic has worn off, just a little? Doesn't help that I'm still not on stage, but my fellows tell me that's completely normal. I have yet to prove to Renzo that I have any talent at all, despite my trying. It makes me wonder what the heck he's looking for. That washout Smokinmirs?

Speaking of Smokinmirs, I hear a nasally voice calling two long syllables out from across the clearing. "Ciiiipherrrr!" My shoulders droop. I'm currently in the process of shoveling lion dung out of the cage- standing outside it and pressing a long shovel in to get as much as I can. The lions are leering at me and one is looking at a scar on my arm in what I'm sure is a satisfied manner. But I'd rather shovel lion poo than go to the sound of that voice. I wait. Maybe he won't call again…

"_Ciiiiipherrrr! _Where _are _youuuuuu?"

"Rats! Later, suckers." I mutter, leaning the shovel up against the wheeled cage, and walk around it. Smokinmirs isn't hard to find. He's bellowing up a storm and, as I come around, I receive several condolent looks and some people shake their heads as if I'm walking toward my own funeral. I finally catch up to Smokinmirs, who's bellowing a third time. I wave my are to get his attention "I'm here, I'm here!"

"There you are boy! Where have you been?"

"Helping Corduroy with-" but I receive a round slap to the side of my head for answering his question.

As I'm rubbing my head, he whines about how I'm _his _assistant and I should be helping him. Smokinmirs has this British accent, but it's fake British, the way only an American can sound British. For a bit of perspective, the fella's from Idaho. As for why he keeps this character trait up while he's _not _onstage, I have no idea, but I'm guess he's a sad, lonely man. "I shall need assistance with my tent post-haste," he says worriedly, pointing to the rolled up bundle.

The Renzo Circus Company is rather small time, and not so well known outside of this corner of the United States. No expense can be spared for silly things like hotel rooms, so the whole company sleeps in pup tents or stay with locals if they take a liking to us. Of course, what Smokinmirs means I'll put up the tent while he sits on his arse and criticizes what I'm doing.

And here's a tip for all you kids trying to break into the circus business: don't let them know right away you're an aspiring magician lest you want to become an indentured servant to the one they already have. Especially if your potential slaver's name is Lawrence P. Smokinmirs.

As I'm setting down pegs, the presence of a gigantic hole in the ground becomes increasingly obvious. At first it looks just like a dip, but as I get closer, I realize it has sheer walls and goes down so far I can't see the bottom. "Uh, Mr. Smokinmirs, do you think it's safe to pitch a tent here?"

"You're not paid to ask questions, boy. Now you don't plan to put your tent poles there, do you? I do not wish to be close to the trees. Mosquito season and all."

"Of course. I'll fix those, pronto!"

* * *

Once I'm done setting things up for my boss, I manage to slip away and do something else for a while- until he starts wailing again. I think it's kind of obvious by this point, but I can't stand that Smokinmirs. He certainly isn't someone I had heard of before getting to Medford. I kind of regret, now, pretending to be his biggest fan before, because now the pill hardly gives me peace.

That being said, the big top does eventually go up, the animals get settled, the grand stands and the ticket booth are set up and the company pitches tent in the woods. That night, I'm about to bunk in the stagehand tent and share stories about women and smoke, but Smokinmirs has other plans for me. I'm to stand guard outside his tent and kill all the mosquitoes before they can get in. When I first hear these orders, I'm sure he's not serious. That thinking turns out to be too hopeful. Please shoot me.

For the first, I dunno, hour, I whack every bug I see with a flyswatter, but plenty of them bite into me without me even seeing them, which annoys me more than it should. Let me make things clear- I like knowing things. What people are up to- who's behind me. It ticks me off a little when something escapes my notice.

Smokinmirs makes no objection from within the tent, and I realize that the mosquitoes are distracted enough by me not to go in there. So, instead of a guard, I'm more like bait. I wonder if my incredible bad luck with wildlife is literally biting me all over, because I don't see anyone else suffering.

Of course that night, I'm right next to the hole in the earth. I can't help but stare at it. It's like it's calling to me. At one point I pick up a rock and drop it in, then get to my knees to listen for the impact. It takes seconds to make a sound but I'm not one of those wise heads who can tell how far something goes down by listening to it. Because of my constant battle with mosquitoes, I get no sleep at all. As I said, the universe hates me.

So the next morning I'm slow, sloppy, unfocused and Smokinmirs abuses the side of my head more than usual as he readies for the performance. He puts on his costume earlier in the day- I think he just likes wearing it. He doesn't realize it makes him look like a lighted sign. Or maybe he does, and he actually likes that kinda thing. He wears a robe and a turban- both of which are lousy with bright blue sequins. His face is touched with makeup, and his black mustache is curved in a spiral.

In the late afternoon, getting into evening, we're finally open for business, and the Fallers(I'm told this is what Gravity Falls residents refer to themselves as) come packing into the place. Renzo comes out and introduces the show with a number of dancers, then it's time for the clowns, and Corduroy's animal act. The lionesses are wearing these wigs around their necks to make them look like male lions. I don't know why, but I find this subterfuge amusing. Then there are the trapeze artists, the contortionist, and the opera singer who can break a glass with her voice. Then it's Smokinmirs turn.

The audience appears to curve around the stage, but actually the disk shaped stage is set to one side, with the flaps of the tent acting as curtains behind it. Smokinmirs and I are backstage currently, only what constitutes backstage is the lawn behind the other side of the tent. I don't bother watching the acts, because the novelty grows dull after the first time.

Smokinmirs goes out into the stage and announces himself as the Great Smokissimo. "My dear audience! Prepare to you have your notions of reality challenged! For after tonight, you will all realize that the future is in the past!" What does it mean? I dunno. It's the same mystical shtick every performance. He says the word audience as if it's the name of an attractive woman. I mouth the words as I get ready for my cue.

Finally Smokinmirs is performing instead of talking. Mostly he uses card tricks and illusions of the eye. My job is to blow smoke with a machine to make the atmosphere seem more mystical- sometimes ringing an unseen gong or playing a note on a zylophone. Again, for atmosphere. Smokinmirs is so much about style people forget the lack of substance- or so I think he hopes.

A noise grabs my attention. Actually, it's more like a hum. Others back here are trying to shout and keep their voices hushed at the same time, which is less hilarious than it sounds. There is sort of a crowd of people already back here- performers who are done, managers, stage hands and so on. It doesn't take me long to see what all the commotion is about. A deep brown, furry bullet is making its way through the crowd of circus people, disregarding humans in its path. Now I people start shouting- loud enough for the audience to hear, I'm sure.

I look back out onto the stage. Yeah, Smokinmirs can hear it. His face has turned tomato colored. Smokinmirs is smoking mad, but he can't break the illusion to the audience. But the audience members are whispering amount themselves. What's all that noise?

The enraged black bear continues to make a bee line through the crowd. And now that I think of it, it's pretty ridiculous to compare a bear to a bee. Maybe it's making a rhinoceros beetle line. Though I think rhinoceroses are bigger than bears. Unless bears are bigger than rhinoceroses. I've never checked.

I consider bailing on Smokinmirs, but there's innocent people in the tent who aren't him and they could get hurt as well. Not that it's exactly my responsibility to worry about them, though. Then I realize that I have no choice anyway as the bear is now nearly right on top of me. I realize I was the rampaging beast's target all along. Sigh. _Of course._

I only have one avenue of escape. I run out onto the stage- right between Smokinmirs and his precious audience.

Smokinmirs goes from tomato colored to plum. "Cipher, there had better be a good explanation for this." He hisses in a loud whisper.

The universe has excellent timing. With a roar, the bear comes crashing onto the stage. "RUN!" I politely suggest to Smokinmirs. He seems to think that's a good idea, and we take off. Unfortunately we don't have far to go until there's a steep drop of into the orchestra pit. Stage. It's not like it's too high to jump, but we would have to think about the jump first. The bear runs at us, all of its teeth well, bared. It wants me just as dead as the lionesses and the woodpecker do.

"NO!" I shout, putting my hand out. What happens next is pretty much natural reflex. I've been doing this since I was a baby. The bear continues to run, but goes nowhere. Well, technically, it's going up. It's lifting into the air gradually. The ursine comes to the realization that it's floating and starts to make swimming motions and grunt strangely. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was panicking. "Not today!" I say through gritted teeth. I lift the bear right about my head.

There is a roar. A roar that is so loud and tumultuous that I have trouble keeping my concentration on levitating the bear. This sure was easier when I was a kid and didn't have my amulet yet. I look to Smokinmirs, confused, but he's staring at me with genuine horror. It's like a smack in the gut, but it's nothing new. _I just saved your life you ungrateful_ _chump! Don't __you__ look at me like a freak._

But I remember that Smokinmirs and I aren't alone in here, and a jolt of fear comes on so powerfully that that this time I really start to falter. I turn slowly, first my face, then the rest of body, all the while still keeping the bear suspended. The audience. I'm being applauded.

Shit.


	2. Two: The Beginning of Billy Mischief

The next few hours after that…are kind of hazy. I'm aware that other people are on the stage with me, and that the bear is being caged. And people are trying to say things to me but I can't hear a word. Then I'm being lead off stage. Then for a second I see some of the local fuzz, and I'm convinced about to be locked up for the rest of my life, or sent to the chair, or I'm going to be cut apart by some bug-eyed scientist. But instead I'm ushered into a tent off to the side. This one's bigger than the one Smokinmirs has, and newer than the one the stagehands share, and there's a large redwood desk and a couple of chairs.

Ringmaster Renzo sits behind the desk, the caterpillar on his face making motions like it's eating his cheeks. It's usually pretty enthralling to watch this, and this time is not an exception, even with the fact that I just outed myself in front of hundreds of people fresh on my mind. The fact that I'm still in a shocked daze sort of helps me stay entranced by his facial hair. Renzo tells me to sit down and I do, kind of cautiously, watching the tent flap ready for a mob of angry villagers to come barging in.

"Well the hell was that?" Well, at least Renzo cuts right to the point.

At first, I grin at him like a sap, sweat drops cutting down the side of my face. Renzo taps his square fingers on the desk. _As yes,_ I realize. _Grinning at the problem won't make it go away. Time to try plan B. _

But…_I don't have a Plan B. Halp!_

I clear my throat "That? Oh. Oh!" I laugh and slap my leg "You meant the _bear _thing! Oh, _that!"_

I look over to Renzo and see that he still hasn't gone away. _For crying out loud!_

Er, Plan C? "It was uh, yanno, slight of hand."

Renzo finally starts to speak "Well whatever it was, the audience loved it. Can you do more stuff like that?"

"M-magic, you mean?" The haziness clears up and things come into sharp focus. I can smell the wood in Renzo's desk and the linen of the tent. Suddenly I'm going from death row to something far better for my quality and longevity of life.

"Whatever they call it, these days." He says.

"_Of course_ I can, sir! Whadya wanna see? Card tricks? Illusions? How about the old rope trick-?"

"Those parlor tricks?" Renzo sounds downright scandalized "Why would I want to see that when after what I- and the audience- saw tonight? No," Renzo shakes his head emphatically. The caterpillar looks like it's getting ready to make a jump for it, but to my disappointment, it doesn't. "I want to see something _big._ I want to see more bears in the air."

"Oh," I say, and not, but actually I'm worried about how I'm going to make an act like that believable. "But where am I going to find more bears?"

"You know what I mean. BIG magic. I don't care how it's done. Just do it!" For me, those are the magic words(ha! See what I did there?). He doesn't care HOW I do it. Things are shifting into place. But I still have to wonder…

"What about Smokinmirs?" I say, trying to play it cool, trying not to show any signs of my joy. No victory dance, no uncorking champagne (like I could even get it!)no smiles even. It's hard! Smokinmirs is probably-

"Packing his bags right now," Renzo says, disgusted. "What was that, kid?"

I had hissed "Yesss!" But I told him "Uh, just Chesss." I say, hissing it a little. "I really like the game chess!" I say quickly. "Dunno why I felt like telling you that right now but…chess is very important to me!" I say, slapping my hand on the table passionately. If I can distract him with nonsense, it's bound to confuse him…I hope.

Renzo blinks at me. I have no idea what he's thinking. Why would I? It's not like I can read minds(as nifty as that would be!). He coughs and goes on "Yes, anyway, he informed me he was catching the next train out of Gravity Falls. He's a little more than spooked by what he saw."

Even better! I can hardly contain my joy now. I'm in danger of cackling right here, right now. It's one thing to now have that windbag's job, but to have given him a spook as well just makes my day! I hope I'm in his nightmares from now on. I hope he never goes says the word "magic" again, because now he's seen it for real and he knows stupid slight of hand won't hold up. Would serve that washout right.

"Damned traitor," Renzo goes on "But that's not the point. The point is, a quarter the population of this two-bit town saw what you did tonight. They're all going to tell their neighbors about it. _Those _people are going to come tomorrow night, and probably a bunch of people from tonight's show will come back to see the levitating bears." I bite my lip. "Thing is, kid, you gotta put a _show _on. Can you do that? Can you put on a show with Big Magic in less than a day?"

"Are you kiddin' me? Can the Pope eat celery?" Renzo looks at me blankly "Of course I can! You don't doubt me, do ya?"

Renzo runs his fingers through his hair, and for the first time I see that he's rather nervous. "You'd better put on a _helluva _show kid, or your _dead._" This sobers me a bit as I realize that Renzo isn't star struck by my magical ability- oh no. He's just doing what he thinks is necessary.

I set my jaw. _You know-nothing sap! You can't see my talent when its staring you in the face?_

"One more thing." Renzo growls from behind the desk.

"Yeah- what's that?" I say, less excitable than before.

"We need to work on your name. If you want to be on stage, you have to have a name that draws people in."

"I thought my talent drew people in?" I regard him through narrowed eyes, as if I can literally see the flaws in his argument.

"Well if I put Fred Cipher out on a sign nobody will care about that person, no matter what they can do-"

I interject, quietly "My name is Bill, sir."

"Well that's just the point, isn't it? You have a bore of a name. You need to spice it up. You need to add some exotic flavor to it, add some vowels. What sounds better? Billdoni, Billissimo, Billiani…?

I can see where this is going. Renzo wants me to be a carbon copy of Smokinmirs. Honestly, I find this kind of insulting, because I shouldn't even be compared to that bore, not to mention shoved into his shadow! "I'm not Italian, though. I don't even look Italian."

"No one cares about that, just as long as you're entertaining."

"If no one cares, _why should I change my name_?" I counter cheekily.

"Stop trying to think, kid. It's not your job to think. Your jobs is to do tricks an entertain people." He leans back to light a cigar. "No, those don't sound…right. Do you have a nickname? A middle name, kid?"

I smirk. It was a joke, or the result of some opium dream, but its on my birth certificate, so it's official. "Yeah, my middle name is Mischief." I inform him.

"Mischief? Seriously?" He raises an eyebrow and the caterpillar dances dangerously.

I shrug, shit eating grin creping onto my face "My old lady claimed a demon in a dream told her to give me that name! Pretty whacky, huh?"

Renzo puffs on his cigar and considers this "Maybe we can go a different direction with this…" and he snaps his fingers, then points at me, kind of aggressively "That's it. Tomorrow night, you're Billy Mischief, Illusionist Extraordinaire. We'll come up with something better later." He says with a wave. Then, in another wild movement, he points to the tent flap "Now get out of my office."

* * *

"Hey, kid!"

I have just left the tent/office. The voice is coming from behind me, and it's vaguely familiar. I turn my head a little until their face is in my view. I don't stop and don't slow down, so the shorter kid has to jog a little to catch up with me. Once he does, though, he relaxes to a walking pace, and this is when I address him. "How old are you?" I ask.

"I just turned fourteen, kid." He says.

"Then I'm three years your elder. _You're_ the kid, Kid." It's the boy from the train station- the one with the white blond hair. He shrugs and takes my reasoning in stride.

"Still, don't you think you're a little young to have your own act?" He asks me, and I come to a stop.

"How did ya know about that!?"

"I was listening in on you and the other guy." He says with a shrug. "So what are you going to do to top making bears fly?"

"How about flying bears with like, six heads or something!" I gesture largely. This is completely random. I start walking again. "How did you get back here, anyway?" I ask, but approvingly. I did not find it easy sneaking backtent the first time I, myself, encountered Renzo's crew.

The boy grins "When look like this, either everyone notices you, or no one does. Invisibility is a great skill to wield."

"Yeah right!" I say.

"Oh yeah? You walked by me without even noticing me. I was standing right there outside the tent, and you breezed right by."

"No way! I was just- ignoring ya! Because I didn't need ta talk to you right then!"

"Sure you were," the boy says, with cockiness that is grating. The fact that I failed to notice him bothers me more than I know it should, and I'm trying to think of a comeback to get back into the flow of conversation. "Oh," the boy says "and the thing about the seven headed bear? That's disgusting."

"Really? I think that would be hilarious!" I say with a smile, and the boy just looks at me out of the side of his eye, like _I'm _the one with seven heads.

"You're screwy."

"I've been called worse! So what's your name, kid?"

"Gus," he says "Gus Gleeful. And I know what your name is. It's Billy."

I cringe, but only inwardly. Not sure why I don't like my new stage name too much, I just don't. "Yeah, that's it." I say.

"So Billy. Where are you going, anyway?"

"Back to town. I have an act to put together, and I need some…supplies…" actually, at this point, I'm thinking about possibly finding myself some kind of speakeasy or the backwoods equivalent thereof. Yeah, yeah, it's illegal. Isn't everything in the world? Uncle Sam would tax you for breathing if he could get away with it. It's dawning on me that Renzo expects me to put on a show that's astounding- the likes of which have never been seen before. Something which puts flying bears to shame. And I have no idea how I'm going to do that, realistically. I need whisky to calm my nerves.

"Well, you won't get there by going that way. But say hi to the manotaurs for me."

For the second time since running into Gus, I stop, then blush, though I try not to show it. I look at his down my nose "Say I hi to the _what."_

Gus rolls his eyes "Never-_mind. _Ttch. Tourists."

Alright then, I'm out of come kind of loop. I regard him sagely. "Very well, kid. Why don't you show me how to get back to Gravity Falls."

* * *

Those who had come to the show the night before and paid for tickets to this night's show do recognize the man when he comes out onto the stage, and yet the plan they had had to prod their dragged along guests in the ribs and inform them _This is the guy!_ suddenly die as they see the fellow. Too tall, kind of dingy looking and resembling a vagabond not too little- what with his outgrown hair, his long face and his tired looking clothes. Suddenly people are wondering what it was they saw last night, because it certainly wasn't something amazing. Not from this bum.

The man begins to talk but none too loudly. He trips over the few words that can be heard, stutters and stumbles back. He plays his the collar of his shirt. He looks uncomfortable, so the audience _feels _uncomfortable_._ They begin to talk over him- a low whisper at first, but it gets louder. People are becoming antsy in their seats. A cabbage is thrown. Who brought a cabbage in with them? Who knows. Someone jeers "Get off the stage, city boy!" Another man cries "Where are you flying bears now, outsider?"

"_Flying bears, _sir?" The man suddenly speaks up loudly and with authority, addressing the heckler. Something about him seems different all of a sudden. He stands taller, he's not as nervous, and he sounds genuinely interested in the conversation with the audience member.

"Excuse _me,_ sir, but did I hear ya right? Did you say something about flying bears?" One hand goes behind his back and the other strokes his triangle shaped beard. "Are you really to tell me that you came all this way to see _bears fly?" _He talks about that phenomenon the way one might talk about the most trite, boring matter that one can imagine.

He paces across the stage, as if deep in thought "I mean," he says "if you folks wanted flying bears then, by all means, I can give you flying bears. But to be honest, I'm disappointed in you Fallers. I thought you wanted to see _real _magic!"

Well, at least he's making more sense now, but the audience isn't exactly on his side. At the back of the tent, Henry Renzobbi (americanized to Renzo) is lighting another cigar to keep the one already there company. Billy Mischief, his untested new act, is speaking even more nonsense. "I mean what is a flying bear? It's just a bear that's in the air. And what is air, anyway? It's this stuff all around us. Slobs breathe it in and breathe it out and then _you _breathe it, ladies and gentlemen. Have you folks ever thought of that? The air you're breathing right now is air you have to share with old people, convicts, gimps, conmen and-"

"You?" The heckler shouts, to which the audience responds with appreciative laughter. The man sits comfortably back in his seat to soak it all up. This is cut short, however, by a laugh louder than the others. It comes from the stage. The audience looks at the laughing performer disgusted. _Who is this clown? Don't tell me I paid a 20¢ to see this fool!_

The so-called illusionist extraordinaire finally gets control of his laughing fit. He points to the man who had called out "You! You sir! Oh yes, you. You're FUNNY!" he says the word funny as if he's biting it "Why don't _you _come up here and entertain the audience!"

The man chuckles nervously and tries to deflect the attention off of him "Ah, _come on!" _Billy taunts "Don't turn into milquetoast _now. _It's your moment to _shine, _pal!_"_ The audience member is rather rotund, with impressive facial hair. When he still refuses to take Mischief's offer, the performer resorts to goading the audience to shame him, "Can you believe it, ladies and gentleman? A regular old comedian and he refuses to share his gift with you beautiful people!"

The audience is easily riled up, even despite the fact that Billy is their decided enemy, they have some sort of innate desire to see grief happen. The fat heckler realizes he cannot fight anymore and he stands and puts his hands up in the air. He moves to the stage, takes the stair over the pit and finally joins the magician on stage.

"Great to meet ya, pal!" The magician greets him as soon as he's there "The name's Billy Mischief, and you must be some kind of some kind of barkin' dog or somethin with al the noise comin' out of your yap!" This actually gets a laugh, though the heckler is not amused.

"I know what you're up to, pal," the rotund man growls, too quietly for the audience to hear "it ain't gonna work."

"Ya know what your problem is? It's too _hot _in here. Here buddy, take off your cap, unwind a bit!" He doesn't remove his hat- not himself, however his hat flies off his head- as if snatched by an invisible hand from above. A shiny bald spot is revealed on the top of the rotund man's head and he squeaks uncharacteristically. Of course Billy is innocent. He's standing a good three feet away. As if to show off how innocent he is, he shrugs expressively toward the audience, showing off grimy but empty hands.

The heckler grows red "You give that back you shyster! You did that with fishing twine, didn't ya?" He looks up at the cloth ceiling, at the poles holding up the tent "You have a fella up there!" He asserts.

"Uhhh," Billy looks embarrassed for the heckler's sake "ya see those tent poles? You see how narrow they are? Do you know _anything_ about human anatomy?"

Raucous laughter comes from the audience. "Oops," Billy sidles up close to the heckler "guess they're laughing at _me _now." Its easy to see the heckler as sputtering mad, as the syllables coming out of his mouth don't really form words. "What is it, pal?" The response is more of the same, so Billy goes on, "Yanno, it's sad really, how some people lose the gift of gab once they get on stage," he clicks his tongue "some folks just shouldn't be in show business." During all of this, the bowler hat is flying lazily around them. Billy finally points it out to the shorter heckler "You want that back?"

The heckler falls for his trap and reaches for the airborne article of clothing, however whatever witchcraft, or illusionary trick Billy has over it causes the hat to jerk up a few inches in the air just as the man reaches for it. Shocked and appalled, the man jumps, but again the hat moves just out of reach. The audience roars.

"Ya like that, do ya?" He taps his chin just over his beard "Yanno what? I think I figured out why ya guys are so obsessed with flying things. I mean, who wants to be called _Fallers_ anyway?" The audience is able to accept some self deprecating humor and rumbles appreciatively. "Jeez Louise, if you like that, you're gonna love this! Ya see, air is just _one _element. Now you folks heard me go on about that, and I gotta admit, I none too fond of the other two. Water's just awful and earth is...pretty boring, actually..." He shrugs, non-committing. As Billy is talking away, the fat heckler is still trying to grab his headwear out of the air, and the audience is still chuckling at that, though it grows a little dull.

"But the one element that has always fascinated me," he twists his hand in a theatrical gesture, then opens it, palms up. But instead of being empty, a dancing blue flower appears in his palm "is _fire."_

A few things happen at once. The heckler comes to his senses and realizes he's being made a fool of, so he turns on Billy angrily. He doesn't wish to play nice anymore, and throws a punch in the smaller man's direction. Billy back steps if just a bit, avoiding the blow, however the heckler's arm and brushes the illusionist. When he brings it back, a blue flame- a smaller version of the one in Billy's hand, has attached itself to the man's sleeve, and it travels up his arm quickly.

"Fire, _fire!" _The man cries, clearly experiencing some pain. He throws off his jacket and leaps off the stage.

"Yeah! That's the spirit!" Billy says, smiling to the heckler from where he stands "I told ya it was gettin' hot in here." He holds out his other palm, and another blue flame is visible in that one. They both grow in height and as Billy speaks. However, the audience is no longer laughing, but rather looking to the heckler, concerned.

"You're crazy, you know that?" The heckler bursts out.

Billy moves his arms- turning his palms down, extending his fingers, as if spritzing something. The stage erupts into blue flame! Audience members gasp, and some of the fairer sex scream. Billy stands in the middle of a wide a circle, relatively untouched by flames "Of course I am!" He cackles manically, arms outstretched. The hecker runs away in panic.

Billy makes a sudden motion like hugging himself. He's calling the flames back. They rush toward him, then build into a high wall around him, before diving right at the body of the young magician. His shape catches fire and the electric blue eyes seem to glow as skin, hair and clothing go up in flames.

The flames disappear. People rub their eyes.

The stage is empty with no signs of the recent inferno. Not even a charred mark.

Billy Mischief is gone.

* * *

You know what the best thing about that was?

The end part. The audience was completely terrified. They really thought I was going to burn the whole circus down. And then of course there was the part after _that. _I'm not even surprised if some of them thought I died! I gotta admit, that last part was some convincing. I even made my eye appear pop out of the socket from the intense heat. I got that idea from this cat I watched burn alive once…but that story's a snore.

Ya wanna know how I did it? Oh, but what is the golden rule, about magicians? We don't reveal our tricks. So you're outta luck.

Besides…I don't even know. I've always been able to do these things. Make blue fire, levitate stuff…and then of course when I'm really in sync with my magic, there's the weird stuff…like changing the shape of things. Up until a certain age, I thought everyone else could do it too. They just didn't because _they_ were adults and, when you're that young, adults are like an alien species. Not sure when I realized that I really was, yanno, unique. It didn't happen all at once it was just something that I had to figure out. Slowly.

And I don't know how it works. It's just…something that's a part of me, ya follow? Like, people got arms and legs and tongues, and some people have the ability to control fire out of nowhere. Nothing to write congress about.

So the show is pretty much over now. I mean, there's this comedy act with some dwarf brothers, but no one is invested in that. Can you blame them? They just saw **me.** I walk out through the impromptu tent city my cohorts set up the other day. I don't get far before my shoulder if cuffed from behind "Kid," Renzo's harsh voice speaks behind me "I don't know how the hell you did that, but the audience loved it! We're gonna go far, kid!"

I enjoy the compliment, but I can't resist being a bit of a smartass "And by far, you mean Oregan, Washington, and parts of Idaho, right?"

"We're work out the details later," Renzo says, tapping some ash off his cigar, which means _Of course._ "Louise! Baby!" He calls, spotting another of his acts, and I'm free for the time being.

The performers have set up a bonfire of sorts and are sitting around it, speaking in low voices and puffing at cigarettes. A bottle is being passed around and I'm pretty sure it's not well water in it.

I plop down on one of the logs between Stella the contortionist and a couple of the clowns who speak no English. "Phew- what a night! I was smoking out there- ha! Get it! Hey Corduroy, pass that bottle this way, I'm parched."

Corduroy meets eyes with the others- a strange, nervous look about them. Bruno the muscle man coughs and Stella fans herself "Well, it's getting late, isn't it…" she states.

"And dark." Corduroy adds "We should call it a night."

"I was just thinking the same thing!" She adds.

I'm a bit bewildered as my cohorts- my equals- right? -all get up in kind of a mass exodus from the bonfire. Even the two clowns get the idea and leave. Corduroy is the last to go, and puts out the fire with a bucket of water. It sizzles and dies, and the red haired giant walks around past me. "No tonight, kid. Give it some time. They're missing Smokinmirs, yanno?"

"Oh, of course," I improvise, too surprised, really, to react angrily which probably isn't in my best interest anyway. Corduroy goes stomping off into the dark and I hunch in my seat, hands thrust into my pockets. So they snubbed me, didn't they? I shoulda known better. This circus isn't about talent. It's an old boys club, and I haven't paid my dues yet. If there's one good thing, they left the bottle of booze with about half the stuff in it. I nab it.

Fine. So my new people don't want to have anything to do with me. My old people will. I find the stagehands' tent, glowing a soft green through the fabric. I pull the tent flap aside and announce myself. "Guess who's back, boys! Its me; Bill!" I move into the center "Well that was a hell of a show, wasn't it? Who's game for a bit of celebrating?" I say, putting the bottle on a table in the middle.

Cedric and Boris- two fine fellows who I consider chums exchange glances "Oh look who it is, Ceddy," Boris says with poison on his tongue.

"Oh I see him. It's big'ol Bill."

"What's wrong, Bill?" Boris asks. "Why ain't you chewing caviar with the performers?"

"Why don't you got your own tent?"

"Jeez," I comment dryly "you guys are regular comedians, aren't ya?"

"Does that mean you're going to set _us _on fire?" Cedric asks.

"Jeez, guys, set my best pals on fire! I wouldn't even dream of it!" I hold up a finger "Unless a lovely lady came between us, then I might reconsider."

"Ya hear that, Bill? That's the sound of nobody laughin'." Boris points out, and gives a pointed look around the space. Indeed, the boys around me are looking at me with annoyance at best- hostility at the worst.

"Who died in _here_?" I say, wrinkling my nose.

"Our pal," Cedric said "good guy named Bill Cipher. Sold out and turned into a big shot named Billy Mischief. Maybe you heard of him?"

"Seriously, fellas?" And I jump up to plead my case "I'm the same guy I was yesterday, Renzo just saw something in me he liked, savvy? Nothin's changed and I'm still good ol' Bill Cipher when I'm not on stage!"

"Isn't that what they all say?" Boris asked Cedric, and Cedric says "Say, does assaulting your competition with a bear have to do with Renzo 'seeing something he liked?'"

I clench my fists and fire threatens to escape, as I have been using my magic just now, however I keep myself in control with the amulet's help. "Do you guys _really _see it that way?" I say with a quiet rage. "Fine. Next time a rampaging bear is heading your way, I won't lift a finger." I storm out of the tent, realizing I've left the booze there with those uninspired chumps only after I've gone quite a way away from it. I growl in my mouth and keep walking.

* * *

This time, I have the sense to walk in the direction of the town instead of toward the mountains. At least, I hope I going towards Gravity Falls this time. If I see the graveyard, I'm doing it right. If I come across the pit, or the lake, then I'm wrong. So, not too difficult, in concept. I avoid the crowd, not really interested in any more conversations. There's only one person I really want to see, and I hear his voice soon enough.

"There you are! We've been looking all over for you!"

I've come to the conclusion that Gus Gleeful is a fine kid. He took me to his house last night to crash, though sleeping was something that did not occur. We spent the whole night working out my act. He's the one who suggested I make it look like I'm setting _myself _on fire. Either he doesn't care that I can do magic, or he's really dumb. In either case, I could have a worse ally.

I turn, and his snow white hair is highly conspicuous in the crowd. Suddenly I'm thinking that there might be something to his claim of being either invisible or extremely visible according to his will. "Gleeful again? Whaddya, followin' me or something?"

"Billy, I wanted you to meet the girl I've been telling you about." Ah yes, Gus's little crush. It's cute, really, when kids think that- Ow! Did I just get shot in the heart, or is that one keen lady? The girl follows in Gus's shadow quietly, unassuming, as she gazes the area around her. Her head is high on her shoulders and she certainly looks like she belongs to any culture but this backwoods clan of pig farmers. She looks like she can't be any older than myself. She's skinny as a birch tree and her hair is cut short, teasing her face which is angular and bares a secretive smile, as if she knows things about you that you have yet to figure out.

She speaks up. Her voice is low and full of humor "So you're Billy. Gus sure has taken a liking to you."

At first I'm nervous and unable to come up with something to say, until I remember something that Gus told me about her "And your name is America Northwest, isn't it?" I say with a smirk, intending to torture her as much as possible about her puntastic name.

The girl purses her lips. Her nostrils flare as she breathes out her nose "So Gus told you my full name. I should have expected he would." She casts a glare to the munchkin "You can call me Ricky." She extends a hand "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mischief."

We shake. "Please, it's…Billy." According to my former comrades, Bill is dead. Time to start writing a new story for myself.


	3. Three: Billy Cheeseman

"You boys wanna go for a ride?" Ricky asks.

Before either of us can answer, Ricky begins to walk purposely past the crowds. I try to get a clue from Gus's face, but he's offering nothing, so I follow. And then there she is. Long and stately, with her baby blue coat of paint. She's an open top with the canvas currently drawn. "A Lincoln!" I exclaim.

"So you're a car enthusiast?" Ricky questions, then rolls her eyes "Great; another one."

I'm not sure what she means by that. Gus, Ricky and I pile into the front, with Ricky driving and Gus in the dubious middle seat. The smell of gasoline brings me back. "I'm relieved, Ricky. I was starting to think this whole town was stuck in the last century."

"Sometimes I think it still is..." Ricky sighs, putting the monstrosity into gear. She slides out onto the narrow road leading away from the circus, and we travel under the trees for a while until she reaches a wider, but still very forested road.

She pulls in front of the white farmhouse I recognize as Gus's home and comes to a stop. The fair boy protests "Aww, come on, Ricky! It ain't even my bed time yet!"

"You're father's coming home tomorrow. Don't you want to be up bright an early to meet him?"

Gus crosses his arms. "No. I want to hang out with you fellas!"

Ricky shoots me a glance "I suppose you can't use one of your neat magical tricks to poof him out of my car?" I tense, but she's joking. "Come on, Gus. Time to go home."

Gus protests vocally a few more times, but he looses the battle. Ricky keeps the car running and makes sure Gus makes it to the door and shines her headlights in his directions as he unlocks it. Gus is aware that he's being observed, so he waves, self conscious, before going in. Ricky backs out of the driveway and gets back onto the road.

It's dark, so it's not like Ricky can see me. However, I do have a question I haven't spoken yet. Ricky must guess what it is, because she says "His father is a miner. He's gone for days at a time."

"Last night, he told me his folks were out of town," I comment.

"Well that's half true. His mother is gone."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise "Gone? What happened?"

She says one word "Influenza."

"Oh."

There is a loud silence after that as Ricky drives. The road is flat at first but that doesn't last long at all, as we start climbing into the mountains. Conversation is difficult, anyway, over that sputtering motor. The car hugs the road as she takes hairpin turns, which cues me in to the fact that she's driven up here a lot. When she stops the car, I realize that it's just in time, because she stopped it just before a drop off. She gets out and I follow. She leans against the hood and hugs her uncovered arms. The suave and gentlemanly thing to do here is give her my jacket or something, but I'm not wearing one of those.

I see a few gas lights below, and I realize that that we're looking out over the town. "It looks even smaller from up here, doesn't it?" She says in a bored tone.

Sensing a trap I reply "Your town is charming, Ricky."

She rolls her eyes and I realize that that's not what she wanted to hear. "Thank you for spending time with Gus last night. It should have been me, but I was pulled into another engagement."

I shrug, kind of annoyed that the kid is being pulled into the conversation. It's hard to flirt when I'm thinking about that guy. "It was no big deal."

She turns to look at me. Her eyes are dark, and her short hair is dark, and something about her is like this barn owl with dark plumage. Her eyes seem to stare into my soul. She says "I know you think I'm over-protective." She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket "Do you mind?"

"Not if you share."

We both light up "He's my neighbor- his family owns the property next to mine. I always knew the Gleefuls well, but when the flu came through, we got closer…"

She doesn't say it, but I hear it anyway and reply "Oh, Ricky! I didn't know. Did you- I mean,-"

"My mother," she angles her face up to look at the sliver of a moon. Silent seconds past and I just watch the subtle expressions on her face. She doesn't look sad- just wistful. There is really nothing for me to add. I'm not good with tragedy. Finally I just say "I'm sorry."

She turns to be "Who'd have guessed…" she said.

"Who'd have guessed what?"

"That the same guy who set the stage and his self on fire in front of hundreds of people while laughing like a hyena about it is actually kind of a nice man."

"Yeah, well," I say, shoving my hands into my pockets "just don't let word get out, savvy? I _do _have a reputation ta protect."

"Your secret's safe with me, Billy." She smiles and, wow, is she pretty when she smiles. With her skinny frame and her short hair, I'm tempted to say she looks like a flapper, but she's not quite there yet- not in the clothing department.

"Gus has really taken a liking to you. You know, with his father not around, he could really use someone to look up to."

Oh. Gus again. I decide to be honest with her. "I don't know if I'm really role model material. In any case, I head out tomorrow."

"The circus is leaving already?"

"Two nights and we're done. We move fast, kid."

Ricky purses her lips "Oh." She says "Well, at least he won't get attached, then. Have you told him you're leaving so soon?"

"I think it came up, in conversation, at some point." I bite my lip, trying to remember if these exact words did ever come out of my mouth the day before, during the mad, excited rush between the kid and I of throwing ideas to one another and building something truly entertaining.

"Good." She said.

"What about you, though?" I push. She's the one who started this conversation, so I'm going to pursue it "Doesn't he look up to you?"

Ricky sighs "I can only watch out for him so much time. He doesn't really take me seriously, sometimes. I think it's a boy/girl thing. And with me leaving for university in September…"

"You _do_ worry too much," I move away from the car, because leaning against those sharp edges is not comfortable for any amount of time "He is big for his age. Probably holds his own in a fight. And he's clever. Not book clever, maybe, put people clever. Not all people have that." Ricky cocks her head and interrogates me with her dark eyes "You know. Some people are word clever. Or math clever. Those are the kind of guys who can go on all day talking about fractions or historical dates, but as soon as they need to convince a man of something, they sputter out. You know, spend too much time planning and they don't talk to the other guy like a normal person. Something like that."

Ricky chuckles "I'm a bit like that…sadly." Then "Which one are you, Billy?"

I actually think about it for a few seconds. "Both."

"Both? Isn't that a little cocky, Mr. Mischief?"

I put my hands against the back of my head and stretch languorously "I know everything."

"Really?" She draws herself up, not unlike a bird with impressive plumage. "Then what is my middle name?"

"It's…Pacific." I don't really believe this. I just want to get her mad. "America Pacific Northwest."

"It's Natalie." Ricky says, without a hint of anger in her voice. "And yes, yes, very funny. The geography names are a thing in my family. There's no sane reason why. My middle name comes from…well, I'm sure you'll find out about him, if you ever come back."

"Nice to know you want me to come back! It's great to be appreciated. Oh, and by the way, Ricky?"

"What's that, Billy?"

"You're middle name is Natalie. See? I really do know everything."

For that she gives me a punch in the arm- one which I rightly deserve. After that, she doesn't bring up the Gleeful kid again, which is a relief, and the both of us just talk about our own lives. Ricky is going to college, she says, because her family has lived in Gravity Falls for generations and she's determined to be the first one out.

"But what are you going to _do?"_

"I don't know. Secretary or something?"

"Why not do something you love to do?"

"Well, I like cars…but guys who like cars are so annoying."

"I don't like cars." I lie.

"Liar."

"But I'm a snappy dresser, right?"

"Sure- for a bindle punk."

Ricky and I talk until she starts to yawn, and explains that she should probably head back. Since I'm staying with Gus, she doesn't have to go far from home to drop me off. After my discussion with her, I feel a bit guilty exploiting the kid's hospitality, but Ricky seems to think it's still a good set up. When we get to the house, there's another car- a Ford Model A with a white coat. "Uh oh," she says when she sees the car "that's Clubb."

"Clubb?"

"Rolph Clubb. Owner of the Club."

"Club as in the weapon, or club as in the organized group of persons?"

"_The _Club, as in swanky restaurant here in Gravity Falls."

"Ah…I see! Very creative." I say condescendingly.

Ricky rolls her eyes and looks over the wheel "I wonder why he's at Gus's place."

"Maybe it's not Gus he wants. Maybe it's me," I say with a shit-eating grin.

"Oh Billy, your humility is your best trait."

"Too bad it's in such short supply."

"A shame, that." She rolls her eyes and prods me until I leave the cab. When I step out into the road, the door on the Model A also opens. A guy with big shoulders and a white ten gallon hat almost as big as said shoulders steps out to meet me. "You're that Mischief kid, aren't ya? The one who plays with fire and bears?"

Before I can respond, I hear Ricky behind me. She's had her head and most of her torso out the driver's side window "Guess you were right!" She addresses me "Good thing we didn't make a bet of it."

"It's not too late, yanno!" I yell back. "I could use some pocket money."

"Forget it," she nods to the hat wearing man "Mr. Clubb."

"Evening, Miss Northwest." He tips his large hat.

"Well I'll leave you two to it," she says, as her head withdraws back into the cab. "Have fun making a deal with the devil!" She calls as she pulls out. For the shortest moment, I'm not sure whether she's addressing me or Clubb.

* * *

I say yes.

Ok, lemme go back. Clubb asked me to work for him, at The Club. Entertainer, two nights a week. And I said yes.

_Why? _Why stay in Gravity Falls, where my chances of exposure are pretty much nil?

I dunno. Maybe I don't want to hang out with people who hate me. Maybe I want to spite Renzo. Maybe I'm a greedy bastard, and maybe Club's offer is just that much better than Renzo had offered to pay me. Maybe it's because Renzo's Circus doesn't have Ricky.

Not that I'm all _that_ stuck on the girl. But maybe, spending a few more days with her would be nice. And maybe, after a few days, I'll be gone of this four-car town like the wind.

We make a couple of stipulations though. I'll get to the details later.

It was late when I got back in the house. Gus had left the door unlocked…stupid, trusting, country kid. I lock it after coming in. From the silence in the house, I come to the conclusion that he's not awake and find my sleeping place from the night before. Not that I had done much sleeping then, mind.

I stretch on the loveseat in my traveling clothes. It's something I've been doing since my hasty departure from San Francisco. I had literally left with nothing but the clothes on my back, and had spent almost the money I had had on me on the next train out of the city. So I had basically been living in this one outfit, and washing it when I could. Hey, I would have gone back to my apartment and grabbed some other changes of clothes, but the fish hats had been staking out the place when I got there!

The loveseat is too short for me, and I shouldn't have slept well, but you underestimate the wild sleeping positions a bindle punk is used too. When not fighting for elbow space with other stagehands for these past weeks, I had been curling up on a train seat on the way to somewhere else. On top of that, I hadn't slept for two nights already. The night before had been a flurry of activity and excitement putting a show together, and the night before that mosquitoes from hell had kept me awake. I'm pretty much dead to the world as soon as I hit the cushion. My sleep is dreamless, as usual.

* * *

I'm not sure what wakes me up- some change in the room that I perceive without realizing it. The sun is shining on my face. Then I hear a click of metal.

I open my eyes. The barrel of a shotgun was staring me right between them.

I jump where I sleep, but as it was a cramped sleep, my muscles are kind of stuck and I don't get far. I end up just sort of sitting up on the couch a little "Don't shoot, don't shoot!"

"You have ten seconds to tell me what you're doing in my house, punk." The voice is growly, like someone taking purposeful steps over loose rocks. It does not rise in anger, and yet the threat is obvious.

"I got invited! B-by Gus Gleeful!" My mind races. It's kind of a struggle to raise my eyes from the gun barrel, because I have this weird superstition that if I take my eyes off it, it will attack. But I do manage to look at the man behind the gun. He's skinny, but it was all muscle, making him wirey. No noodle arms for this guy. His face is mostly beard, his round nose sticking out from the sea of fur which reaches all places on his head but for a large, dry area on the top. The shape of the nose reminds me of someone.

"Y-you're Gus's father, right?"

And, then the confirmation: "Da-ad!" Gus's voice calls from some unseen place behind my head, sounding more annoyed than worried "Why are you pointing your gun at my friend?"

After a short discussion, Gus's dad lowers the weapon and allows me to sit up on the loveseat. He and his son also take seats we have a sort of bull session. Gus nabs a chair from the small kitchen, and Gus's dad takes the smoking chair and sits across from me. The gun is on his lap and he's polishing it as we speak, and I'm confident he could whip that thing around and pop me at any time. Not unrelated, my speech is excessively polite.

Gus and I fill Mr. Gleeful in about how we met and why I am here. Actually, Gus tells his father about me and I interject from time to time to make myself seem more saintly. "So you're one of them circus freaks, eh?" Mr. Gleeful asks.

"Not a freak, sir," of course I understand the irony of that statement "Yes I have and beard, and no, I'm not a lady."

"You got hair like one."

"Ha, a joke!" I point out weakly and, suddenly self conscious, I flip my hay colored locks.

"Hmmm," Mr. Gleeful casually looks over his barrel at me. He does this while the gun just _happens _to be pointed in my direction. "I don't care for the circus. A bunch of scam artists and deviants if you ask me."

"I completely agree with you, Mr. Gleeful!" I say with more enthusiasm than is technically called for "Which is why I'm no longer in the circus!"

"You left it?" Gus sounded heartbroken.

"Yeah, kid! I've got a job in town now!" Somewhere on the couch is a copy of the contract Clubb and I hammered out the night before. After a bit of casting around, I find it crumbled up at the end. Mr. Gleeful snatches it away and reads it carefully.

"So you're moving to Gravity Falls."

"Um, yep! Guess I am!" I haven't thought about this yet. I've got to find a place to live now, and there will be no more wandering for me. Well, realistically, I'll probably be nomadic again fairly soon, but as the plan currently stands...

"You'll need a place to stay." Mr. Gleeful says, reading my thoughts.

"I'm sure something will work out."

"Why don't you go find one now." It isn't a suggestion. It's an order. Get out of my house and never come near my only son again.

I stand up. "Thank you for you for your hospitality last night," I say, choosing not to bring up the fact of the night before that. "Even if it was a misunderstanding." I mean it. Gus is a decent kid, and even if his father is terrifying, he doesn't seem to operate with malice. I leave with no fanfare.

* * *

Renzo is not happy when I stroll into his office with a copy of my new contract. In fact his mustache quivers with rage and he throws his fists in the air and he tells me that I'm dead in show business. On a side note, I'm getting a little tired of people telling me I'm dead. I have a pulse, thank you very much. If they had any tact at all you'd think they'd check it before jumping to conclusions like that.

So later that day, the company packs up and boards a train heading west. Do I possibly feel a twinge of guilt it leaves me behind? Or is it the pain of a sewing needle once again jabbing my thumb?

It's the latter. At the moment, I'm at Ricky's house, in her parlor, with her and Gus. The light haired boy snuck away from his father after the old man went to sleep by day- as people with unusual schedules are apt to do. The kid is still rather shocked that the elder Gleeful did not take to me the same way he did, and I try to explain to him that a lot of people don't take kindly to finding strangers sleeping in their houses.

One stipulation of the contract that Clubb put in was that I have to come up with a decent stage costume, and one that's in good repair. And thus, Gus, Ricky and myself make a sort of sewing circle around a coffee table in smoking chairs. Ricky found a suit her dad doesn't wear any more and we're altering to that. It's in the old style, like from the '90s, but clearly hasn't been worn much. This was where I start to come to the conclusion that Ricky's dad is kind of a big deal around here. This and the fact that her house is a mansion also gives that away. Seriously- the parlor alone is bigger than the apartment I shared with Pops back in San Francisco. The fact that her family uses the word _parlor_ is also suspect.

I'm not any good with a needle and prick myself regularly. I have patched up my own and Pops's clothes a couple of times, but right now I'm woefully over my head. Ricky and Gus made fun my ineptitude, and explaining to them that I've been buying my clothes premade since I was ten didn't help me much. At least I _can_ sew, Ricky points out. I suppose you could blame the lack of a feminine presence growing up for my evolving womanly skills in my life- from necessity, of course. This also may account for Gus's freaky sewing ability. The kid puts both of us young adults to shame.

I have the idea to sew alchemical symbols into the front of the jacket, and Gus makes it happen. We choose a bright red thread that really stands out fantastically against the black, and then I write some number glyphs down on a paper for Gus to replicate. While the kid is doing that, Ricky and work on something more our pace- namely, making a cape from a stark blue, flowy material. It looks fine when it's done, but somehow incomplete. I stare at it for a few seconds, then snap my fingers. I grab a piece of bright yellow fabric, cut it into a shape and proceeded to sew this right into the fabric of the cape.

Ricky watches me for a few seconds before asking "What's with the triangle?"

"It's not a triangle," I say patiently "it's the alchemical symbol for fire."

"Well, it looks like a big wedge of cheese to me." She says, leaning back in her chair.

"Mmm, I like cheese." Gus looks up from his rather intense project.

"Maybe we'll just call you Billy Cheeseman from now on." Ricky says without looking up.

"You slay me, guys." Actually, I'm a little miffed my compatriots don't see how perfect the triangle is. Don't they get that triangles are important? If I try to explain, though, I'll look one of those wise-heads who read too much, so now I'm in a kind of frustrating situation.

With what money I have in my pocket, I buy myself a bow tie, (because no one in their right wears a suit without a tie) and a top hat. It's a bit cliché but it _works._

* * *

Friday comes around. Fridays and Tuesdays- those are the nights I am to perform. Backstage in The Club, I wait for my cue. So this is it. This is the start of my new life. Doubts assail me. What if I made the biggest mistake ever?

"Psst! Billy!"

Once again, Gus startles me. I'm getting a little annoyed with his ability to go unnoticed. "I'm not even going to ask you how you got back here."

"Good," he says with a sly grin, and hands me something "I made you this."

I can see it's an eye patch- a simple rounded bit of cloth with a slightly elastic string on it. "Gus? Both my eyes work fine." I remind him.

"Well duh, Billy! It's for the show. Makes you look mysterious and unusual." When he sees I'm still unsure, he says "Um. Did you see where I put cheese on it?"

"Cheese?" Now I turn it over in my hands, and only now do I notice the yellow equilateral triangle sewn there, flat side down. Inwardly, I squee.

"This is fantastic, kid!"


	4. Four: Coin Slot Eyes

People sure can be funny. After a couple of days of me crashing in various places, Mr. Gleeful approaches me and tells me that, while I'm not welcome in his home, he'll allow me to sleep in the shed behind the house for a weekly sum. The figure he names is very decent, too decent to be true, in fact. Of course there's a catch. I have to repair the house. Gleeful explains that, with his employer keeping him away from his most of the time, his house has fallen into disrepair somewhat. And he's not going to pay me for all this work.

And one more thing. I have to cut my hair.

I say yes, because it's the best option I have right now. Let's just say I might have overestimated the amount I'd get at my first show. As this is my only living wage, I have to spend what I have wisely. It's still better than being broke, though. So the shears come out and a good six inches are gone.

Gleeful does not, however, inform me that I have a roommate. Oh no- I have to find that out when I'm settling in and suddenly I hear a bray. I have to the back wall of the shed by now, and the sound comes from behind me- where the door is. I stand up and turn slowly.

There is a light brown goat in the doorway with a big brown spot on its back. It is staring me down.

I sigh, "You're going to attack me, aren't you?"

The goat chews on its cud for a few seconds. It seems to be considering this idea. Then it dips its head and violently tugs some more grass out of the earth. I blink in utter surprise.

Every animal I have ever encountered has attacked me with no mercy. Cats used to attack me in alleyways with flying jumps. Dogs would bite if allowed to get close enough. Birds would dive bomb from the skies like the insane woodpeckers around here. Horses would become agitated when I got close and, if ever one got loose, it would come right at me. Squirrels would land on my head and bite with surprisingly painful teeth. I was even pinched by a lobster once. Animals hate me.

And now I find little guy. This goat. And he couldn't care less than I'm here.

I whistle through my teeth "I think I'm actually going to _like_ you!" However I am still disbelieving of my luck, so I approach the horned beast slowly. I get about three feet away when it looks up suddenly. I flinch, but then it does something that completely takes me by surprise.

It looks up at me with its golden, goat eyes and just, does nothing.

And. It's. Just. So. _Adorable!_

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim. "Your- your eyes, little guy! You're _cute_!"

Seriously, I have never seen eyes like that. He sort of looks like he was supposed to have cat eyes, but they got tipped over on their sides so now they look all weird. They're yellow, with black horizontal coin slits in them. And they're absolutely amazing!

Before I know it giving the goat a hug. No really- I wrap the goat in my arms and pull it close to me. And best of all? The goat doesn't even pay attention to my existence!

I'm all warm and fuzzy now. I've never understood the concept of finding things adorable. Until right at this moment. "Now I now how most people feel about kittens!"

I give the goat another squeeze. And that's how I end my first official week in Gravity Falls.

* * *

I got to Gravity Falls in the beginning of August. I'd been traveling with the Renzo Circus Company since the beginning of June, and a fortnight before that I left home. For someone who wanders so much, I do have an easy time adjusting to staying in one place. I get friendly with the Pines brothers- twins named Roderick and Dagwood. These guys are rumrunners so basically they're some of my favorite people in the world.

And then there are the moments I spend with Ricky…

It's kind of scary, actually, just how much I think about her. It would be one thing if she was a dumb Dora, but she's actually very smart, and a lot of fun to talk to. She gets me. My interests, my stupid jokes. She laughs at those. And she makes me laugh, too. When we're together, it's great. She has told me so much, and I tell her so much…but there's something I haven't told her.

It's funny, really, how I told Gus right away about my magic. There was just something about the kid I knew I could trust. Ultimately, Ricky is more dangerous than Gus. Her wants are different than his. Her sights are on the horizon. She's shrewd and comes to her own conclusions. I don't know if I can trust her and, ultimately, I have to watch out for number one.

In other news, get into the habit of wearing my tall, stiff top hat all the time.

I explain to Gus why, two weeks aftermoving into his shed, as the two of us are walking up Gopher Road pushing a wheelbarrow full of timbers. This concerns the roof, which I've been kind of putting off. The other day, Mr. Gleeful came to visit Hotel Shedtenac to politely remind me out of our deal, so I'm getting on that.

"I happened upon this quite by accident," I brag "when I was getting out of the show the other day. But you know those woodpeckers who just adore me?"

"Adore is one way of putting it," Gus guffaws "I mean, woodpeckers in this town aren't shy that's for sure- but I've never seen a fella have such bad luck with those birds!"

"Yeah, well, I'm just special, I guess," I grumble. "Anyway, they're stupid. They can't tell the difference between my head and a hat on my head." Speaking of- I hear a _foop_ as something settles on top of the head adornment. Then there is a muffled _Thwak thwak thwak thwak!_ As the demon bird starts pounding on the flat top with it's beak. I let out a satisfied chuckle "There! _There!"_I point at the bird "Ya see? Ya see how it works? Yowch!" I exclaim when the thing suddenly bites my pointing finger, and pull my hand away and shake it.

"Head armor." Gus observes. "That's pretty clever."

"Well, yanno, I'm a genius." I say, sticking my hands into my pockets and casting him a shit-eating-grin.

Something attaches itself to my left shoulder. When I look, a black, white and red bird is staring me in the face.

_Thunk, thunk, thunk!_ "Ow, ow, ow! Stupid thing! You'll poke an eye out!" My face is raw where the woodpecker is hammering into it. I try to shoo it away, but it keeps flying back. Oh, malarky. I just _had _to tempt fate, didn't I? Stupid universe.

Gus laughs so hard tears appear in his eyes "Looks like you need full-body armor, Billy!"

"Enough," I growl, creating a small flame in the palm of my hand. It's discrete when I burn the second woodpecker, but the effect is good enough. The bird gives a series of _boks_ in a started fashion and flies away, the only sign of my power play being some smoke that trails on its wings. Did Gus notice the smoke? No, he's on the ground, having a fit of laughter. Good.

The other woodpecker on my hat takes off after the smoking one. The two get over the trees, then one of them suddenly falls. Oh well. Shouldn't have made me mad.

Gus wipes tears out of his eyes "That was the bees knees."

"Glad to see my pain brings you such joy." I say dryly.

* * *

I don't start on the roof when I get back, telling Gus that I'll do it when it gets cooler. An odd excuse, given that it's a pretty mild 72 today, but he doesn't seem to see a problem in that. I go back to the shed and sleep for a couple of hours, at least until it's dark. Then I get up. Now that it's dark, I start by levitating the biggest boards up to the roof. I mind-hammer them together quickly, then attach this to the roof, making a flat platform. I levitate the rest of the boards into a pile up top.

So, obviously the real reason I wanted to wait till dark to do this was being I didn't want people seeing me _not_ getting my hands dirty. Can you blame me? Why go through all the trouble getting on my hands and knees in the hot sun when I can just do it with magic?

I decide I might like some company. Mr. Gleeful isn't here, so come sauntering through the front door of the house "Hey Gus!" I call "Wanna get on the roof with me?"

"I shall make a salad!"

'Oh, _lettuce_ do it together!'

"That's great. But who just went into the kitchen?"

'Tis the chef, sir! He'll _beet_ us to it!'

Gus is talking to someone. Someone, British? Or actually, someone fake British by the sound of it. They also sound kind of like Gus.

Uh oh. I hope the kid hasn't gone screwy.

Then again, that might be kind of fun…

I move silently through the house, using a little trick of levitating myself just an inch above the floor so that my footfalls land on a cushion of air. Up the hall and into the sitting room, where Gus is seated on his father's chair with a strange little man on his lap. Coming around an angle, I see the man is actually a doll made of wood. He's got a painted wooden face with bright red cheeks and painted auburn hair, and he's dressed in a smart, green suit. Gus can manipulate the doll to make the mouth move. It's not the first act like this I've ever seen, but Gus isn't bad at throwing his voice.

"But how did he get there before us?"

'By playing _ketchup_, of course!'

"Oh Gideon, you're so- gah! Oh _shit_!" His eyes find me in the room and he stashes the doll under his chair "How long have you been there?!"

"Long enough to hear your fake British accent. Gus, you didn't me you had a puppet!" I settle back down onto the floor, move past Gus and get the doll out from under the chair. Now that I can look at it straight on, I can see how the face of the doll is painted with pulled back lips and huge, painted eyes. "Nice ventriloquist dummy!" I complement.

"Uh, yeah," Gus says "that's Lil' Gideon. I made him." He sidles closer to me "So, Billy, you really like the dummy, don't you?"

"Yeah I do! He's fantastic!"

"Oh," Gus says, and plops down on the couch. "_Great._"

"Yeah! Great! Wait. Huh?" I turn to him "Hold on, Gus. What do you mean by that? What you mean by _great?_ Not great as in great, but _great_, as in, great-with-heavy-sarcasm?"

Gus crosses his arms, and gives me kind of a pained look, then says "Look, Billy, no offense, but you only like things that are really weird or scary or gross."

"That's not true. I just like things that are really swell."  
_  
__"_You think_ Gompers_ is cute!"

"What are Gompers?" I ask.

"Gompers the lawn goat who wanders around the neighborhood."

"The goat? Oh!" I smile despite myself "Gompers is the cutest, pal!"

"No he's not! He's a fat ugly goat and he eats cans and his eyes are all weird and sideways and stuff." Gus states.

"He has coin slots for eyes. _Coin slot eyes,_ Gus! How can you not think that's completely _precious?"_

But Gus isn't done. He's making a list on his fingers. He's now on to the second finger "You once told me that you wish you could travel back in time to the French Revolution so you could watch people get executed via guillotine."

"Oh, _come on_, kid, like that's not your dream too!"

"And remember when the first night when you were planning your show, and your first idea was to set the _audience_ on fire?" Gus crosses his arms.

"But you convinced me that setting myself on fire would pack more of a punch. Thanks, by the way. They loved it! But what's your point?"

"Actually, I had been trying to explain to you that people _don't like to be on fire."_

I sit on the chair and think about it. "Oh, yeah," I say "I keep forgetting that being on fire hurts for most people."

Gus sighs "So now you see why it's kind of a bad thing if you like Lil Gideon?"

"Um, no. Explain this to me, kid." I'm getting a little cross now.

"If you like something, other people will think it's weird or scary or gross. I want to make people laugh, not make them run away in horror!"

I turn Lil' Gideon around in my hands and look at the dummy's face. I try to see it the way one of Gus's hypothetical audience members would see it- I really do. I see the pulled back lips- looking like it's almost in pain, and the eyes which are too big for the head. The painted cheeks, the painted on head and the size make it look something like a child, but with it's blank, staring eyes, it looks a bit like something that belongs in a grave. I _guess_ I can see how a person can be unnerved by it. I mean, no one has hair _that _shade of red naturally.

"The only reason I like puppets is because I like the idea of having people under my complete control." I explain quietly.

Gus looks pained and, after he peels his palm from his face, asks me "Um, Billy, you don't know that controlling real people is _kind of_ a bad thing, right?" Gus has genuine concern on his face.

I butt out my jaw as I consider this. Then I snap my fingers. "Corpses! Corpses aren't people!"

"I'm pretty sure making a puppet out of a corpse is illegal."

"Are you sure? Is there a law that says that specifically?" I hold myself up like a self-important turkey, "It is unlawful to make puppets out of corpses in the state of Oregon!" I state in a deeper, stuffier tone, then relax my posture "I bet there's not!"

"Not specifically…" Gus knows he can't win, so he shrugs. "Anyway, I'm not going to do that, but you're free to try. Just _please_ don't implicate me. I don't want to go to the pen for something weird like that." Gus reaches for Lil' Gideon.

_"Sooo—"_ I nudge him.

"So, what?"

"So? What's really worse- the dummy you carved from hand, or my idea?"

"Yeuch! Billy, I can't believe you're even asking me that! Of course your idea is worse! Next to that, Lil' Gideon's badly carved mug is wholesome, family entertainment!"

"Exactly!" I conclude.

"Wait. So your defense against me ragging on your taste level is you telling me that your taste is even weirder and screwier than I already thought it was?"

I open my mouth, then swallow my thought. "Huh. Since you put it that way…"

Anyway, Gus promises me, he's not going to do anything with dummy, because he has horrible stage fright. He's not even willing to perform for me in the comfort of his home. Secretly I'm happy because his food routine was not doing him any favors. But I still think the stage fright is weird. Here's a guy who will go out in public and right up to strangers and introduce himself and talk about whatever's on his mind without a second thought, but give him an act and he's helpless. Really strange.

"But I know that, whenever someone's watching, they're judging me. Look, Billy, it's not your problem anyway, so kindly drop it."

I'm banished from the issue. I leave, because I forgot why I came in, and then once I've out there a few minutes, I remember the reason. So instead of levitating myself to the roof, I fly around to the one window with a light on and rap my knuckles against it. A startled Gus comes to the window and becomes even more startled when he sees me all reclined in the air with my hand on my jawbone. Nervously he opens the window all the way.

"How's it hangin, kid?" I say with a grin.

"Billy! You're! Gah!" He looks out the window, as if making sure the ground is still there. "Don't fall!"

"Nice to see you, too." I sit up in the air, Indian style. "So I'm going to the roof for some mayhem and murder. Or roof repair. Whatever comes naturally. Wanna come with?"

"What? Are we going to _fly_ up there?"

"Fly? Kid! Do I look like I have wings?" I cross my arms out of mock insult "It's called levitation, _thank-you-very-much!"_

Gus backs away from the window into his cramped looking room "That's okay, Billy. I'd rather keep both my feet on the ground."

"Don't worry, kid. I'm not gonna drop ya." Casually I levitate Gus off the floor and out the window. At first he's too speechless to respond to what's happening, but when I've got him next to me, he starts struggling like a drowning cat- limbs reaching out randomly trying to get a purchase. In his suspenders, he looks funny, and I tip my head back in laughter. Gus grabs me and digs his fingernails into my arms and wraps his arms around my shoulders. He's got a grip like an anaconda!

"What gives, kid?" Like a drowning victim in real life, the kid pulls me down a few inches. Gus is shivering. This is becoming less humorous.

"B-B-B-Billy, please! I really, _really_ don't like heights!"

I look into his eyes, which are pleading me like his words. I frown. I manage to extricate one arm from his grip and snap my fingers. Gus disappears. He materializes a few inches off his bed, and falls the harmless distance in a flump. He presses himself into the bed touching it can heal wounds. He looks out the window at me.

"Um. Sorry." I say, magic his window and curtains closed, and levitate myself the rest of the way to the roof.

* * *

I don't go to Lookout Point a lot, because I'm vehicularly challenged and it's too long of a walk for someone lazy like me. But when I do, I'm with Ricky. Such is the case at the moment. We're sitting in the car, windows open, smoking. Ricky, I noticed, is one of those people who can't go long without a cigarette. I don't like them that much yet.

She leans over and kisses me. Maybe you should stop watching here.

.

..

...

You didn't stop, huh?

Freak.

Eh, it's okay. I'd probably do the same thing. I'm actually a bit of a peeping tom myself. Maybe I shouldn't be bragging about that…

Um. Where was I again?

Oh yeah, we were making out. I'm in the passenger seat of the Model L, she's in the driver's seat and we're necking up a storm.

"Can I tell you a secret?" She says. She's looking up at me because she's leaning on me. She flutters her lashes.

"Shoot, Babe." I say, caressing her hair.

She puts her mouth up to my ears "You have the most gorgeous eyelashes."

I pull away in surprise, look at her, and blink a couple of times. She giggles. "Yeah, that's it. Flutter those babies!"

I set my jaw "I'm a man," I inform her, as if she didn't know "I do not _flutter_."

She snorts "You're right. And that was the manliest blinking I ever did see."

I spend a few minutes fizzing; trying to figure out if I should actually be mad or if I should just be confused. I decide to go for whacky instead. "Never new blinking was such a turn on for you, Ricky. Is that like, a common fetish?"

"Oh, Billy Mischief, now you are being downright vulgar!" She puts her hand to her heart and acts aghast, like a puritan lady from the east. "Wash your mouth!"

"Aha, does it _does _turn you on!" I lean in close and give her a long, slow, blink "how do you like it like _this, _Doll?"

She fans herself and moans mockingly "_Oh _Mr. _Mischief."_

Neither of us can keep a strait face and we both break down laughing. She leans one me and put my lanky arm around her. There are moments of golden silence. Well, not silence. The grasshoppers are pretty loud this time of night. But it's not a bad sound. You get used to it.

"Do you ever miss home?" She asks out of the blue, her voice husky.

I play with her hair. "Yeah. I do!" I say "There is so much more _going on _in San Fran. A party every night if you know how to find it, everything new, everything on the go, everything getting bigger all the time. Not this. Not this- sameness; slowness. Excitement, I mean!"

Ricky moans and leans into me "I sure would like to visit the big city. Tell me, is San Francisco beautiful?"

I actually have to think about this. "Um. Yes?" I finally state. "I mean, it has parts that, I guess, you'd consider beautiful.

She smiles "Maybe some day you'll take me there, huh?" She looks up at me warmly. "Tell me- what's your family like?"

"My family?" For some reason this question has blindsided me.

Ricky snorts "Of course! You must have one." Then she gets a worried look on her face "You _do _have one, right? Oh Billy- didn't mean to-"

I stop her with a gesture. "Of course I have a family! Though the Ciphers," I thrust a thumb toward my back "are mostly back east. In Denver. But my Pops- he's dandy. Very uh..." I dunno. Pops and I are so different it's like we come from different planets. Needless to say, for the past couple of years, our relationship has been strained. "Quiet." I say "Honest. Hardworking."

Ricky sits up. I miss her warmth. Ricky studies my face. She can see some conflict in it, but misreads it. "Do you miss him?"

The answer is no. In all truth, I haven't thought of him since I came to Gravity Falls. To me, this was the man who was always bossing be around, putting me down, trying to control my life. He was useful, in my teen years, because I needed a place to sleep. But it would kill him to give me a single yard of freedom, or do butt out of my business when he was supposed to?! He hated so many things about me. He hated that I wasn't a normal kid.

"Of course I do." I say, my expression genuine. It's the answer Ricky wants- what she expects.

"And what about your Mother?"

I look out the window this time. "My Mother? She left when I was five years old."

Ricky's eyes grow wide "Left? Just _left?"_

I nod. Ricky looks horribly sad. "What is it?" I ask.

"I was so sad when my mother passed away. Sad doesn't even begin to cover it. I felt like the ground underneath me didn't exist anymore. Like I was falling in a deep, dark pit, and I would keep falling forever, with nothing to cling on to and no hope of seeing sunlight ever again."

My eyes widen. It sounded nightmarish. There was something strangely exciting about the thought- falling and being lost in the dark, at the same time. "That's beautiful, Ricky. Sad," I add quickly "but beautiful."

She smiles "Well, I was a little girl. Older than your were when you lost your mother, but..." and then she sighs "I used to be mad at her. Can you imagine? I was mad her because she died! But she never wanted to die," her voice is a little harsh "it's just that, I can't imagine how it would be if my left because she _wanted _to."

I take her hand. It seems appropriate. "Don't be mad at my old lady," I say "be mad at my pops." Her eyes are confused "He kicked her out." Her eyebrows come close together. She mouths _Why?_

"Didn't like her I guess..." I swerve.


	5. Five: Squirrel Flu

**Hey guys. I'm trying to keep author's notes to a minimum because I want to save them for the end. Anyway this chapter begins sort of a trend. There will be times in this story when Billy can't tell it on his own. In these cases, I will switch to another viewpoint in the third person past tense. So, Billy= First person present tense, anyone else = Third person past tense. Cool? Cool.**

* * *

August comes to an end, September begins. Ricky packs up her Model L and says goodbye to her boyfriend with the girlish lashes.

If I thought summer was bad in Gravity Falls, autumn is worse. Mr. Gleeful has no end of projects he wants me to finish. I go from mending the roof to painting the house and the shed to digging the hole for the outhouse deeper. Even with magic, this is unpleasant. The nights grow colder and I'm seen wearing a cardigan. One time I just happen to look down at the sweater wrapped around my shoulders and realize I've become an old geezer. Here I am, reading about the trends of kids like me in real places- and what am I doing with my life? At my age, I should be hitting all the clubs, learning all the dances, getting in trouble with the fuzz.

Gus has become something of a homebody, and with me technically banned from said home I don't see him much. One day I walk in I hardly recognize the place. There are swaths of fabric on the tables, on the chairs, and on every other thing that sticks out. From somewhere I can't see, I can hear some kind of _rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat._ Some of this fabric has been put together on torsos carved out of wood in garish ways- here's a sea tiny captain's uniform, and something that looks like it belongs on a miniature Queen of England, and here's something shapeless and yellow, but again, in a miniature proportion. "What the heck? What's going on, Gus?" I can't see him, but I know he's here "Putting on a play or something'?"

Then his snow white head pops out from behind a pile of cloth. He's sitting at a little table with a sewing machine in front of him. "Howdy, Billy! Didn't see ya there!"

"Likewise. What's the deal, anyway?" I say, fingering the yellow, shapeless thing.

The sound of the sewing machine stops suddenly. Gus jumps up and slaps my hand away. "I haven't sewn it yet. It's only pinned to the form right now!"

"Oh, oh course. My deepest apologies." I say insincerely. I have no idea what he's talking about. I look at my fingernails as if inspecting their length, slightly surprised that Gus has had the guts to make a move on me.

Gus goes on "This is no big deal. A couple of moms asked me to make guising costumes for their kids."

"So let me get this straight," I say, wandering around the room, looking at this and that. "Not only are you a ridiculously good tailor, old ladies actually seek you out because they're too lazy to make their own kids clothes?"

"Uh, not really. I don't make kids' school clothes. That's boring and, if I did do that, I'd probably make them pay. But I love anything costumey, or unusual."

His line about paying worries me "Don't tell me you do this for free."

Gus nods, sticks a pin back in his mouth and turns his attention to the clown yellow, shapeless thing.

"Why in the world would you do that?"

He spits the pins out, annoyed. He can't hold them in this mouth and talk to me at the same time. "I told you: I like it. I don't need to get paid for doing something I love."

"Why not get paid, anyway? If you love doing it and someone pays you for it, that's a double whammy! I mean, _hello_! That's what I've got going on and look how good _I've_ got it."

"Says the guy who's so broke he has to sleep in a shed with a goat."

"He's a very good roommate, when he's not eating my socks." I point out.

He rolls his eyes "It's not like I get nothing out of it. Usually the mothers are so grateful they hand me a few quarters anyway. Or if not that, food."

"Aha! So the boy works for food, does he?" I say, giving Gus a nice poke in the middle. He protests as I slide to the side "That explains why you're so soft and fluffy!"

"Hey! I'm not fluffy- I'm just a little round about the edges, that's all."

"Oh yeah, Gus, whatever you say!" I tease "Now for another question: what the heck is guising?"

"I guess they don't have it in California," now Gus is the one wearing a cocky smile because, for once, he knows something I don't. "Guising is when kids put on these costumes, then they go door to door. If the people inside like their costumes, they give them treats."

"So, it's basically like begging, but for kids?" I'm intrigued by this. "So why do you do that?"

"It's for Halloween. Do you know what Halloween is?" He jabs, but this time his thrust fails.

"Oh yeah- spook night! When you look into a mirror and see your true love or some other baloney. But I like your idea better! So!" I rub my hands together "How can I get in this guising thing?"

"Um, Billy? I'm sorry, but you're kind of too old. Kids only go guising until they're, I dunno, twelve or something. Sorry, Billy. I used to really like it, too. That's why I started making guising outfits for kids- because I still got to be a part of Halloween."

Realizing that I first heard about this guising business five years too late, and that now I'll never go, makes me feel a little grumpy. It's not like I want to do what the preteens are doing away…but the whole guising business sounds so novel and unusual that I know I've just gotta be a part of it! I lean against a wall, deep in thought.

"Billy, I know something that's perfect for you." Gus says, turning the dress form around momentarily to check his work "You know, Halloween is still spook night. So why don't you spook all the kids who are walking around at night?"

I push up against the wall "Gus, you're a genius with freaky sewing powers!" But what to do? I bring up the idea corpse-puppets again, but I get shot down. Jeez, why does Gus think that's such a bad idea?

* * *

Little Dorothea Gorney stood tall and straight in her new tabby cat costume. Clothed from head to toe in stripy gray material, the little girl also had cat whiskers painted on her face with her mommy's makeup, and a headband with cloth ears stuck on. Her candy pail swung to and fro on her arm. Thea was ten years old now, two digits and, because of that, her parents had decided that she big enough to go out guising alone, without her brother accompanying her. She walked all the way down Main Street, following the flow of other kids, from house to house.

"Trick or Treat!" She shouted with a smile as one door opened.

"Oh my, a hungry little kitty cat! I think I have a sweetie for her- or maybe a mouse?" The lady inside smiled as she dropped the candy into Thea's pail. Thea thanked her and skipped on to the next house.

There were a few houses on the east side of Gopher Road, where it ran along the lake. The best candy, however, Thea knew from experience came from the family that lived on Main Street. A part of her wanted to skip ahead, and visit the Northwest House first, but she knew patience was a virtue and that the full sized candy bars would taste even better if she put off satisfaction. So she made her way to the Gleeful yard.

She skipped up to the door and knocked. The door opened a crack, though it did not seem to be because of human intervention. "Hello?" She called. It looked dark through the crack of the door. Just to make sure, Thea pushed the door in.

The entryway was dark, but only at the bottom. Some light caught her attention, and her eyes traveled up. The fear clutched her heart was icy, like the hand of dread.

Eyes. Dozens of eyes- blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes. Eyes slightly yellowed by the air, but clearly damp from their own fluid. Thea could even see the veins on them. They were from human beings, and they were glowing, and flying!

The eyeballs all turned in unison toward her, their perfectly round irises showing no emotion. Then, all in unison and in a swooping motion, they all made a move at her.

Thea screamed, dropped her candy on the porch, and ran, pursued by what she believed to be a flock of malevolent creatures.

* * *

From my hiding place just inside the hall, I chuckle as the little girl runs into the street, and shake my head. Too easy. I wave my hand in the air and all the flying eyeballs dissipate into smoke. They're all but light, after all.

The pail is on the floorboards on the porch, and various taffies, chocolate bars and candy fruits have scattered all over. I levitate them back into the pail and pick this up. I shout into the living room "Guess what, Gus? We got another pail!"

Gus is at the window, looking out between the curtains. "Thea Gorney's parents are family friends," he says "maybe you should go easier on the illusions."

"Hmph, I wasn't even trying to be scary with that one. I don't know how much more mundane you can get than _floating eyeballs."_

Gus does not take the opportunity to argue with me. Instead, he says, "How about next time just a bat, or something?"

"Bats aren't scary either." I point out, but catch his look "oh, alright, I'll try a bat. But maybe I'll make him bat with one eye, and a human skull for a face!"

"Why not just a normal bat, Billy?" Gus attempts, tired.

I think for a few moments, looking into the darkness above the hallway, trying to envision my next illusion. "A normal, giant bat?" I say with a crazed grin.

Halloween is fun, and gives me more than a few ideas of how to scare people. And I realize that Gus was right. People are afraid of pretty much all my favorite things, except Gompers of course, but Gompers defies the rules of keenness. Case in point, the floating eyeballs are, in my opinion, beautiful- elegant in their symmetry and eye catching(excuse the pun) in their coloration. How can anybody be scared of that?

When I try giving them visions of something that gives me the creeps, kids look on in more or less confusion. Irregular quadrilaterals just don't instill fear in people, I guess. I honestly can't imagine why. I mean, it truly makes me feel disgusted just thinking about those shapes. Why aren't they disturbed by them as well?

And _I'm_ supposed to be the crazy one.

Ricky's in the habit of writing a letter back home once a week. What her family doesn't know is that she's sending me one too. I assume the letter I get is a lot more informal than the one that goes to dear old dad.

She tells me about college life, about her studies, about the newest dances and fashions. I keep her updated on the colorful characters in town. The Pines Brothers- who have skipped town once again "until trouble blows over". Her dad petitioning town council to have a statue of their famous ancestor put up in the town center. Farmer Pepperon and his bad luck with sick cows this fall.

My letters aren't very interesting, but Ricky's are _terribly _boring. With my few letters, I try to be nice and comment on what she tells me about her professors and her studies, but the more she talks about her classes, and the cost of books, and the various clubs she's in, yadda yadda yadda- the less things I have to say. Finally I write her and tell her I'm afraid all that education is turning her into a brainwashed robot.

Winter arrives bone cold but dry, and it's terrible. You don't understand. This is a cold that freezes everything it it's tracks. It's a cold that gets right up into your body and never leaves you alone. I thought was used to cold. In San Francisco, you have the sea on both sides of ya. It makes you wet and chilly all the time. But this is different. San Francisco never freezes. Gravity Falls, apparently, _does._

The tourists stop coming and Clubb informs me that I won't need to come around to his establishment for a while. Which means no income, which means I have to find some odd jobs around town and it _still _cuts into my food and drinking money. I can't get anything done as far as home improvement goes- not with the ground and everything being so frozen. At least Mr. Gleeful has the good sense not to raise my rent- probably because he knows that I'm sleeping in a freezing hellhole. The house is drafty, but the shed is worse. I do what I can do to warm it up, but the cold only retreats into the corners, never leaving me alone.

One day I'm huddled under a pile of blankets on my bed. I've got some birch bark rolled out and I'm sketching with some charcoal. With all this work I've been doing on the Gleeful home I've been thinking, why am I doing all this work for someone else? All of this roofing, insulating, gutting, commode digging, painting, building- I'm pretty good at all that. Why am I not doing it for myself?

And so I'm sketching the blue prints to a house. My first sketches are fantastical naturally, because I'm just dealing with hypotheticals right now. How about a house designed to look like the ancient pyramids? Or a better yet, a sphinx! Who doesn't to live inside a giant stone monster?

I hear the growly noise of a car coming down the street. At first I think it's Mr. Northwest's Studebaker, but is doesn't have the same sound. I press my head to the thin wall of the shed and listen, then a huge smile spreads over my face. I run out of there in my new winter coat and old, worn out shoes. Even though it's on another street, the Northwest yard touches the Gleeful yard, and one can access it through a gate in the fence.

Walking along side the house, I come out to the Mr. Northwest's front yard and find that my suspicion turned out to be right: the baby blue Lincoln L is sitting in the driveway, and a certain, leggy girl is reaching into the back for her luggage. I sprint over there, surprised at first that I don't see Ricky's dad or brother, but I don't see either of their cars either so I don't dwell on it long.

Ricky pulls a trunk out of the back seat and starts to crab walk to her door. She turns around and startles to see me in front of her.

"What'sa matter? See your ghost?" I grab the handles of the trunk from her "I got this, Ricky."

"Billy," she sighs and, once I have the trunk, puts her hand on her heart. "I was hoping to arrive when no one was here. Hey! Come back here!"

I stop mid step, because I had been making my way to the front porch. I turn slightly to see Ricky, and she pets my check with her lips. "I expect a hug later."

We are now walking down the path together- Ricky with a suitcase in each hand. "You're so clingy." I say "I want a breakup."

"Fine. I get the kids."

"Kids? Ricky, is there something you haven't told me?"

We get to the door, she unlocks it, and I put the trunk on the porch floor. She drops the suitcases and we embrace like she never left.

"What happened to you?" Is Ricky's first reaction when she sees Gus again. I exchange glances with the kid. We're all on Gus's porch, and the white-haired-boy has just greeted us.

"What are you talking about, Ricky?" Gus asks, after us fellas share a long look, both of us unable to figure out what it is that has upset Ricky so.

The girl walks up to the boy "Well," she says "I can't use your head as an elbow rest any more." She gets herself in front of the boy and measures the height with her hands. "Yep. _You_grew like a weed." She casts me a suspicious look "You've been slipping something into his food, haven't you?"

Gus and I exchange impish looks. His growth spurt was noticed, of course, because Gus had had to give himself a whole new wardrobe, but to me it happened gradually every day, so that it wasn't a big deal. I forgot that Ricky would be shocked to see her little neighbor transformed so.

"Guilty as charged, doll." I say "A little something I like to call Mischief Miracle Grow. That will be a hundred dollars, please."

"I want a refund! You made my cute little button into a tree!" She says, hugging him close.

Gus is caught between fighting her off and enjoying her contact. "I'm not cute!" He protests.

* * *

Snow comes down, and hard. I have never seen so much snow in my life and at first it's a novelty. But as days and then weeks go by and snowstorms become a regular thing, I grow to hate it just like everyone else. The snow builds on the mountain roads, making travel in and out of Gravity Falls highly difficult.

Ricky worries about missing her first day of spring semester. Secretly, I'm glad she's stuck here with me. I haven't been working steadily anyway, so it's not like I can have any less money. Every family has their cupboards of canned food and dried meat and stuff like that, though I notice the grocer tries to go up on his prices. Not so good, I observe, even though I'd probably do the same thing if I was him.

No one expects the snow to last, though the prospect of not being able to travel out of town is a bit stressful for some. Despite this confidence, for some reason my suggestion that we all go Donner party now and start eating the little ones earn me a lot of dirty looks.

"Honestly, Billy, sometimes I don't know if you're joking or serious." Gus groans one day as we're shoveling snow from his porch for the third time that week.

"I'd like ta see ya come up with a better idea!" I challenge Billy, and he pulls his hat over his eyes as if he's ashamed to know me.

After that day of shoveling, he develops a cough. Ricky comes in to nurse him despite his protests. It's actually kind of funny to see Gus argue with the college student so much. I know he wants Ricky to see him as adult that she can admire, but I know from our chats that Gus fills the emotional place, for her, that a little brother would. It's just as hard to her to see him as boyfriend material as it would be for me to start writing with my left hand.

But when the Gus's cough gets worse, we start to worry. Worse, Mr. Gleeful falls ill as well, and Ricky enlists my help in caring for the both of them. There's news on the street that people all over town are falling victim to something called The Squirrel Flu. "I hope that's the case…" Ricky says, and catches my look "true- if left untreated, squirrel flu is a pretty nasty creature. But luckily some Faller figured out a cure years ago. I'd rather it was squirrel flu than pneumonia or something we couldn't cure."

"I guess we'll just have to see what the doctor says," I reply. Ricky and I are currently in Gus's kitchen. Ricky put on a kettle of tea for nerves. Dr. Pitt is currently in the bedroom, seeing Gus and his dad. I add "I hope it's something we can cure, too." I say honestly "What's the cure for Squirrel Flu?" I ask, discretely heating my tea with a small white fire under the cup.

"The Tonic. Made from a concoction of peanut brittle, tree sap, essence of peach pit and gnome nectar."

I give Ricky a sideways look over my shoulder. Bringing the tea to my lips, and I ask "Sorry, but what was that last one?"

"Gnome nectar. Gnomes are naturally immune to the squirrel flu, and they gnomes make this nectar for humans through some secret process. Anyway, the nectar is the active ingredient agent in the tonic."

I open my mouth, then close it. Then open it again. Is Ricky being serious? Somehow, I just don't think she would be making jokes at a time like this. "Gnomes, huh? Ya mean like those little men with the beards and the red hats?"

"Oh, no. Real gnomes are big. Like seven feet tall."

"Uh-huh," I say with heavy sarcasm.

"What's wrong? You don't think gnomes exist, or something?" I'm not really sure how to answer that question. Ricky goes on "Are you telling me you've been here for almost half a year, and you never ran into something weird or unexplainable?"

"Well, this one time, I found a squash with a human face. I could swear it had human emotions too, but-" Ricky is giving me a blank look, so I shut up.

We hear someone clear their throat, and the doctor peeks into the kitchen. With his thick black hair, he looks he could be handsome, if not for the fatal flaw of his oversized ears. His tired, saggy eyes, too, affect his appearance, though this is not a permanent condition.

"It's the squirrel flu," the doctor says "I hope you kids are ready to go see Gravity Fall's gnomes."

I look at Ricky, but she's got a straight face.

* * *

After getting confirmation, Ricky goes into kind of a flurry- planning things, running to the house and packing things. She's going on a trip- that much I can divine. But she can't spare a minute to tell me the details of said trip. Clearly she's worried. I go in to visit Gus.

If it's possible, the boy looks even paler than usual in his bed. I put my hand on his forehead and find him to be burning up. I also take his pulse, which doesn't tell me much because I'm not a wise head doctor.

His eyes flicker open "B-Billy?"

"Hey! Kid! I was wondering when you would wake up!" I say, flashing him a shit-eating-grin.

"Hey…" he chokes, then his body is racked with coughs. I frown and move back a few spaces, wary of germs being spread. I take my hat off my head and put it in front of my nose and mouth as a kind of guard.

"I guess _you're_ not having fun, huh?" I say casually.

"Uh. I don't suppose your magic can just take this away?"

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Usually, Billy is kind of hesitant about me using my magic on him. For instance, he refuses to let me try to bring Lil Gideon to life.

"You hadn't considered that, have you?" He asks.

"Actually, no." I say. "It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

Gus pulls the blanket over his shoulder and thinks about it. I start considering how I can possibly use my magic to cure Gus of his disease. It would be complicated for sure. It's not just a matter of making something float. I would have to use that _other_ kind of magic- the kind that changes the shape and nature of things. I haven't used it much and, when I try, I usually fail. I know I _could_ change a teacup into a mouse, if I really tried, but most of the time, nothing happens.

Every once in a while I get lucky. Once, just before leaving San Francisco, a bunch of fish turned into mermaids. Except some of them were boy mermaids. Mer-men? Mer-people? Retroactively, I'm proud of that. But I had been scared at the time. Maybe I could only do this kind of magic when I'm panicked or something?

Gus says, suddenly "I know you don't want to reveal your secret, Billy, and if you cure me, you're going to have to cure everyone." He curls up under the blanket "Soon the expedition will come back with the medicine. Then everyone can be cured at once."

I'm actually pretty appalled by how altruistic Gus is being about this whole thing. "Baloney, Gus. If ya get cured, we'll say it's a Christmas miracle." Christmas actually passed a week and a half ago, but who's to say miracles don't arrive late in the mail?

He says nothing, but weakly waves me off. He wants to sleep. I put my hat back where it belongs. "Alright kid- have it your way." I say, pretending I'm hurt he doesn't want my hypothetical custom cure "When Ricky gets back with the drug, you'll be fine, and then you'll like her more than me!" I pout dramatically.

Gus suddenly pops out of bed "Ricky's going to see the gnomes?"

By this point I don't even question the existence of gnomes. Ricky, Gus and the doctor all talk about them like they're the times of the day, so I have to admit to myself that they are real or at least everyone thinks so. I nod.

"You can't let her go!" He takes a hold of my wrist.

I try to pry him off me "Kid, it's Ricky we're talking about, here. I'm a magician, not a miracle worker!"

_"Then cure me!"_ He still has a grip on my arm. I'm surprised at how forceful his demand is. His light blue eyes peer out from behind his piggy nose. I wonder if he's ever used that tone with anyone.

I shrug with one arm, still trying to pull the right one away "Kid, I've never tried this before. It probably won't even work!"

_"Try!"_ Gus pulls me closer "If Ricky goes to the gnomes, they might try to force her to-" but Gus doesn't get to finish his thought, as his body is wracked with a sudden fit of coughing. His fingers finally let go, but I do not take the opportunity to leave his side.

I sigh. "Fine. But don't be mad if nothin' happens."

I kneel down next to the bed and feel Gus's hands, his forehead, his chest- trying to get some idea about the disease, and how it works. I think about him the way he is now- clammy hands, pale skin, hot forehead. All these things are symptoms of the disease. That's all I can see, really. I can't see the germ inside of him, doing whatever it does. I'm afraid I can't use my magic on something I can't see.

But maybe that's not what I have to do. The bug itself is just a part of it. The problem I want to solve is that Gus is sick. Moreover, he's sick, and he shouldn't be. So the thing which state I have to change…is Gus's.

I reach under my shirt for my amulet, letting the skin on my fingers touch the naked stone. I squeeze it, feeling my pooled magic wash back into me. Yes. I can do this! I'm Bill M. Cipher after all; since when do I say "can't"?

I lean over him. I put one hand on Gus's forehead, and another on his chest- from which his coughs originate. I let my magic flow into him. I imagine it shaping him. Making him stronger, putting more color into his complexion. Basically, making him the way he was a week before: healthy.

I break out into a sweat, but I keep going. Keep going until I think I'm done, then I let go. I'm breathing heavily now, and I lean sideways against the bed. My head hurts, my heart is thumping, my bones ache. That's the other problem with magic like this: sometimes I feel like it's too big for my body.

Gus sits up in bed "Billy? Did it work?"

I peek at him under the brim of my hat. "You tell me, kid. Ya feel better?"

"I feel…" Gus begins. When there is a long pause, I think, at first, that he's not sure. But maybe he is, because his eyes roll into his fluffy white head and said head falls onto the pillow.

I shoot to my feet "Gus? Gus?!" I shake him, and mess with his face, but the kid is unresponsive to the world, his burning fever even worse now.


	6. Six: The Falling Faller

Ricky has left a long time ago, so there's no enlisting her help on Gus's behalf. I run over to the Northwest house and find that all the family is gone, however the groundskeeper recognizes me. When he sees my anxious state, he takes a message down and runs into the house to make a call on my behalf. A quarter hour later, the doctor arrives in his car. By this time, Gus is in a cold sweat and completely dead to the world.

"He must have been suffering longer than we knew," the doctor says worriedly "he's progressed from stage two to stage three! That doesn't happen for five days, usually."

I suck in air between my teeth and try to find a place to look in the room, as if the doctor can figure out that it's my fault by watching me. But of course, he doesn't have the slightest notion that that's the case and, why would he? I shove my hands into my pockets. "Hey Doc, how many stages are there of the Squirrel Flu?"

The doctor gives me a long look before saying, somberly, "Four."

I chew the inside of my cheek. I'm not used to being in a situation that I can't make better somehow, and worse, it looks like Gus is the one who's going to pay for my mistake. The doctor tells me he'd like to take the Gleefuls back to the clinic, for observation. I help him get them all situated into the meat wagon. I mean, ambulance. Mr. Gleeful is conscious enough to be extremely worried about his son. At least Gus doesn't have to see his Dad like that.

* * *

Somehow I receive the information Ricky went to the graveyard. I walk there on foot, trudging through the snow. It's snowing pretty heavily, as usual. It must only be six PM but, of course, being the dead of winter, the sun has already set.

I go up Main Street, then cut through the churchyard. I'm wearing a wool winter coat and pair of boots I bought after the snows set in, both secondhand. I've temporarily turned in my signature top hat for a trapper cap. I make it across Gopher Road, and up Cemetery Lane, until I come around a bend and I find a group of people in front of the wrought iron fence of said cemetery.

Some forms I recognize are: Ricky; Mr. Clubb, with his broad shoulders and mink coat; Thoreau Poolcheck, the softspoken grocer; Ricky's father, with his ram road strait back, who is a contrast to his son Yukon, who has a pronounced slouch. One of the Pines brothers is there too- Dagwood, with his shaggy brown hair and mustache. Since my last letter to Ricky, Dagwood did return to Gravity Falls, but Roderick is apparently still hiding out elsewhere.

I move close enough to hear their conversation, but take care not to draw attention to myself. Ricky and her father are arguing. I only catch the tail end of the conversation as I come near. "And what if no one volunteers, Father? Are you going to force someone to go?"

"America, we are not having this conversation!" Mr. Northwest says through his teeth. His accent is a little bit posh.

Yukon then steps in "Just go home, America. This isn't your place." The twenty something says forcefully. He sounds kind of posh too, but it doesn't come through as strongly as his father.

"Of course it's my place!" Ricky argues "Gus Gleeful-"

"Will be fine," Mr. Northwest says, attempting to steady his daughter by putting a hand on her shoulder. "He's a strong boy. The best you can do is stay with him until we get back."

"No, Father, I'm coming along. I left Billy Mischief watching Gus."

"You mean that Billy Mischief?" Poolcheck speaks up, pointing in my direction. I realize I've been spotted. I can't observe unobserved, I guess. I approach the group. Not with my usual bravado, not with any wisecracks. Rather, I walk with the same gait a fearful man walks with to the gallows. How am I going to tell Ricky what I've done?

"Billy!" Ricky sounds furious already and I think she's figured it out, but she has something else to be in a lather about "what are you doing here?! What happened to Gus?"

"He's with the doctor," I say in a monotone. I recount how Gus got sicker, skipping the part about _why _he got sicker.

"You should have stayed with him then!" Ricky looks about ready to punch me.

"The doctor wasn't going to let me in!"

"Miss Northwest, please stop being argumentative." Clubb speaks up in his low baritone. "If it's true and people really are getting that sick now, then there's no time to lose. He have to get the nectar, and Mr. Mischief is a capable young man and negotiation tactic can be useful with the gnomes."

I'm actually a little surprised to hear my boss speak of me in such glowing terms. Ricky clenches her hands, then turns on a boot heel. "You're right. Hurry up, Father." She says, beginning up Cemetery Lane.

"Hold on a second, Ricky. You still aren't coming along!" Mr. Northwest scowls as he paces after his daughter quickly. The two Northwests put so much distance between them and rest of the group that the others have to jog a little to catch up. Yukon, who is next to me, breaths heavily as he runs. My eye notices a bead of sweat on his brow, despite the cold, but my brain doesn't register this detail.

"Father, Mr. Clubb himself said it: we don't have time to argue!"

"There is no way you're going, Ricky! When those gnomes see you-"

"Mr. Northwest!" I interject, catching up with him "She's right! We don't time to argue about this. If she wants to come, let her come, but I'm with Clubb on this: we need to be speedy about it!" I add "Sir."

Mr. Northwest does not reply to me, and a great fit of coughing takes just about everyone's attention away. Way back on the road, leaning on Poolcheck is Yukon, hacking forcefully. He coughs with so much gusto that he looses his upright posture and needs to lean on Downe even more for support. Ricky runs back to her brother, "Oh no, not you too, please!"

"He's too sick to go on," Downe reports, though we have figured that out anyway. "I'll take him back to town."

Mr. Northwest nods and turns to Ricky "You go and help Mr. Downe with your brother."

Ricky shakes her head "I have more of a reason to go n-"

"AMERICA, DO NOT ARGUE WITH ME!" Mr. Northwest thunders, and everyone winces. Sure, Ricky has a temper, but who do ya think she got it from?

I slip in next to Ricky. "I know you're worried, but I think ya should listen to your pops." She bites her lip.

"Um, excuse me." The voice is quiet and slight. Six heads to look for the sound of the voice(Yukon is too sick to be interested). We see a small silhouette in the thin moonlight on the dirt road. The shadow takes off the hood of its jacket and reveals a pretty face, with large blue eyes and a small mouth. A few strands of golden blond hair fall loose. She is someone I've seen around town a couple of times, but I don't know her name. "This is the expedition going to the Gnome Forest, right?" She adds "I'm…volunteering."

For some reason the rest of the group exchange surprised, significant glances. I know whole conversations are being had with those looks, but I just can't parse them! Sadly, I can't read minds. Why the heck are they so shocked that this girl decided to come along?

Mr. Northwest, who I guess has kinda appointed himself the leader of the expedition, approaches the young girl "Miss…are you sure?"

She nods "Absolutely, Mr. Northwest."

"In that case, thank you." He says graciously, and takes her hands warmly. The girl flashes the smallest of smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Northwest then raises his voice, no more anger in it, but rather a practiced calm "Come along, gentlemen and ladies. The entry to their land is this way. And Thoreau-" he makes eye contact with the grocer who is still holding Yukon up, only Clubb has gone to join him at this point. "Thank you."

Mr. Northwest does not look at Ricky as he passes her, but he does not yell at her to go home either. Nor does he seem to mind when she keeps pace with the group. _What the heck?_

My first thought is that Mr. Northwest's behavior is kind of hypocritical. Ricky can't come along on the expedition, but this unknown girl can? So Mr. Northwest's argument had not had to do with Ricky's sex? Or maybe it had to do with her being related to him? But then why not bar Yukon as well (before he got sick, that is)? Or maybe it had been a combination of gender and family?

But that doesn't explain why Ricky is still traveling with us, and Mr. Northwest doesn't seem to have a problem with that anymore.

I catch up to Ricky "What was that all about anyway?"

"If you don't mind, Billy, I'm not in the mood for small talk." She says, pushing on further. The group winds up Cemetery Lane until it sort of patters out into the field. Said field is now covered in snow and looks completely different, but I can't help remembering my first few days in Gravity Falls when the circus set up here and me with it. Back then, I thought I would be staying here a few days and then skipping town. How could I have known I'd put down roots, get a job, a pet, and a girlfriend?It sure had been an unexpected half year in Gravity Falls.

Dagwood leads us into the forest. Ricky's not interested in talking. I'm not, really, either, but I still have this thing called curiosity. Why did Mr. Northwest's attitude change when the mysterious girl arrived? I notice that she sort of her keeps her distance from the group, face down, scarf over her mouth. I step over to her.

"Yellow." I greet.

"Oh?" She startles, then sees it's me. "Oh." She looks down again. "Hi." She says, not looking at me.

"The name's Billy Mischief. And you are?"

"Mabel Trembley." She does not look up at me or take my offered hand.

"Mabel! That means 'lovable', doesn't it?"

She turns her face away from me "Oh. I don't know."

"Um. Right." I say "Well…come to this part of the woods often?"

She doesn't laugh, crack a smile, or even get mad. "Um. No."

Getting information from her, I see, is going to be like pulling teeth out of some woodland animal. My mouth forms a hard, strait line and I drift away from her. Our party of five trudges on through the snow. Though Northwest and Dagwood communicate through one word sentences every once in a while, Ricky, Mabel and I are all in our little worlds of misery. Man, I'd give my life to have access to what's going on in my female companions' minds right now! I can guess what Ricky's thinking, but Mabel's inner turmoil is a complete mystery to me! I can only imagine the worlds that are in there!

As for my pain, it's what you would expect. I just can't get that image of Gus flopping back onto the bed out of my mind. Just after Dr. Durland had left with the Gleefuls, I had been putting my frozen mittens on when I suddenly stopped and just stared at my four digited hands. Just stared. And then, for a moment, I just knew: this thing that I had- this power- it wasn't meant to do good things. I had evil inside of me, and that evil permeated and poisoned my mind, leaving me a little crippled in the morality department. Worse, it would physically leave and poison the things around me- good things.

And then I thought about the things I was thinking and snapped out of it. There's nothing wrong with my magic other than the fact that I probably shouldn't try healing people with it. I'll get Gus's medicine and save his life, and that'll be it. I pretty much have too, now.

Mabel has drifted back over to where I walk "I think we're in the gnome forest now."

"Are we?" Frankly, the idea that there is another type of forest within the forest kind of baffles me. Shouldn't they just say, 'The gnome's part of the forest' instead of saying that it's a whole different forest? But when I look up, I seem to be in a different place entirely. The tall, stately pine trees are gone. Now there are trees with thick trunks and bunching roots. The canopy is made of branches tangled together. Even in the winter when there are no leaves, it blocks out sky and, apparently, weather as well, because the snowfall here is only a few inches. Because of that, I can see all the fungus and various mosses growing on everything. The vegetation around me is spectrum of different greens- from a sickly yellow to a lush forest green to a cool blue green. And it all sparkles, as it's frozen over with a thin sheet of ice.

"It's like something outta _Alice in Wonderland_." I comment.

"Wow," Ricky breathes, joining us "I've never been here before. The last time they sent a group here was when I was a baby. They never told me how beautiful the gnome forest was!"

"I don't understand," I hear Dagwood mumbling "they usually meet us here!"

"It has been sixteen years," Northwest stated.

"For you! I was here a fortnight ago."

"Father?" Ricky calls "Is the gnome forest supposed to have this much hair?"

"Come again, America?" Northwest raises an eyebrow.

Ricky bends and picks something up, then hands it to Mr. Northwest. "I keep finding these clumps of hair." I silently sneak over to take a look at the dark brown tuft of fur in Northwest's grasp.

"What can that come from?" Dagwood asks.

"Don't their kind get up close and personal with the local wildlife?" Northwest suggests, and Dagwood rolls his eyes. I listen to their conversation with only one ear. Aside from the tuft of fur Ricky found, I also have find some squashed mushrooms, and some broken off ice. Signs of a struggle. "Someone came through with horse," I mention when I find a print in the snow "look; a hoofprint."

The two men push me aside to look at the print. I glare at them, but I let the insult go. They speak to each other in low voices, then someone speaks up from within beyond the trees. "Oh thank the Abstract, you're only humans!"

So this is the first time I get to take a look at one of the weird creatures living in or around Gravity Falls. The gnome looks pretty much exactly the way they look in the storybooks. The guy is wearing kind of old style, hand woven clothes that cover his body, and a conical red hat on his head, and his brown beard would put Gus's father to shame, flowing way past his sternum. The only difference is that instead of a little man, the gnome is actually very tall- he towers over the tallest of us, which is Ricky's father. I think he could probably pass for human- just an unusually large one. Heck, Renzo's circus would probably have a place for him in the freakshow.

It's clear he's been beaten up badly- his face and knuckles scratched, and one of the gnome's eyes is swollen. He takes stock of the group in front of him. "It's good to see you again, Pines." He says to Dagwood, "But why are you here, and why did you bring these others with you?"

Since Dagwood was addressed, he speaks "We came to bargain."

Northwest gets a tighter grip on his cane. "What on earth happened here? Some kind of fight?"

The gnome leans on a tree "My brothers were 'invited' to party with the manotaurs." He turned his head slightly and spits out something that's bloody. "Our leader Colin is with them. If you want to bargain, you had better find him."

Manotaurs? I vaguely remember Gus mentioning manotaurs once.

"Manotaurs?" Dagwood questions "but manotaurs are just big bags of wind! I've never heard of manotaurs meeting gnomes in the field of battle and _winning_!"

"Well now that they have their new fangled wooden whistles…" the gnome says darkly.

My brain kind of hurts. It's enough to see first hand evidence that creatures you thought existed only in myths are real, but now we're going on about some kind of monsters that force people to party using whistles. I lean on an opposing tree and just watch, my eyes not blinking.

"Where do the manotaurs live?" Ricky boldly asks the gnome.

* * *

"Hey Dagwood, can I ask you a question?" We're on our way to another haven in the forest, apparently, traveling in a vague, uphill direction.

"Shoot, Mischief." Dagwood replies.

"How is it you know so much about gnomes and minotaurs-"

"Manotaurs," Dagwood corrects me.

"How is it you know so much about these weird creatures?"

Dagwood regards me through slightly lidded eyes for a moment, smiles wryly to himself, and shakes his head. "If you want to avoid the law, you gotta get off the beaten track. And when you get off the beaten track, you end up in someone's territory. It's a pretty good idea to get friendly with those someones if you don't want to end up dead."

"So that's why the gnome knew you. And that's why Northwest wanted you on this expedition so badly."

"Roderick knows the creatures better than I do," Dagwood admitted "every once in a while, he'll declare he's going to write a book. Crazy dreamer." He rolls his eyes "For now, I guess you'll have to settle for me."

* * *

The directions Ricky got were for the forest when it's not covered in snow and, as such, things don't look exactly the way the gnome described them. The rock that looks like a face- well, we don't even see that. Ricky thinks that she's found the dead tree the gnome talked about, so the chasm shouldn't be too far off. But the snow makes everything soft and kind of uniform, so that not even a gaping hole in the ground can be easily found.

We literally have to trip over it in order to find it, which Ricky and I do. We're coming upon a snow bank that looks just like all the other snow banks. I think we are both thinking the same thing, and that we'll get to the other side and get a slant. We're trudging through the snow, lifting our boots each one after the other.

I, for one, am miserably cold. I feel like we've been walking in this freezing weather for hours, and the snow from the sky just does not stop. The wetness has seeped through my clothes a little, uncomfortably enough. I put a small fire in each of my pockets- not enough to burn through the fabric, but warm enough to make me feel better. They help minimally.

And then the fall happens. To be fair, Ricky, who is about a pace ahead of me falls first. The snow that is disturbed when she falls sort of slips away like a carpet. I happen to be on the carpet, and this is how I get pulled into the crevice. There are a good few seconds that pass, so that by the time I'm in freefall, she's way below me, screaming.

Being airborne is nothing new for me and, in no time, I get a hold of myself and ease myself into a float. It's not the same for Ricky, who cannot levitate herself or anyone else. I can hear her screaming, but I cannot see her, frustratingly enough! My heart starts to race. I don't know how deep this chasm is, and I don't know how long she can fall for. But if I don't stop her from hitting the ground, I just might lose my only two friends in Gravity Falls!

With a wordless yell/grunt, I push both my hands out. Fire explodes from my palms, traveling to both sides of the chasm and filling it with an soothing blue light. By this light, I finally spot Ricky. I dive for her in a controlled fly. When I'm close enough, I gesture in her direction, stopping her gently in the air. It's gone dark, so Ricky cannot see me. Her only hint that something is different comes from the fact that she can no longer feel the draft of passing air.

Not thinking, a drench my left hand in blue fire while I levitate Ricky next to me. Now that we are both level, I levitate us both toward the surface, which looks like a crack of slightly lighter blue in a pitch black universe.

"B-Billy?" Her voice is not believing.

I glance over at her. I see the look of utter confusion on her face. I feel a knot in my stomach. It's like Smokinmirs all over again, but I_ like_ Ricky.

She looks up at the crack of the chasm, getting continually wider. "We're flying!" She exclaims, sounding like a little girl riding a pony for the first time.

I crack a smile despite myself "You're not a afraid." It's not a question, it's an observation.

"Of falling, yes. Of flying…" she pauses, and looks down. "But Billy, how-" she looks at me, my face illuminated as it is by my fire. Fire which does not burn my skin. The hue matches the color of my eyes.

"Guess I haven't been completely honest with ya, Ricky."


	7. Seven: Rise of the Multi-Bear

She doesn't get a chance to respond to this, because we levitate to the surface, and I settle her down on her rump on a patch of ground I know to be solid before checking the area around me. In retrospect, maybe it would have been a good idea to check first, because when I turn around, I see that Northwest, Dagwood and Mabel are on the other side of the chasm, staring at the guy flying around like Peter Pan.

I abruptly settle myself onto the ground next to Ricky, but the damage has been done, and the three of them look at me like I have several heads. "Eh, that was a stage trick," I say. "Illusionist Extraordinaire, remember?" Northwest, Dagwood and Mabel blink dumbly. "We were never falling in the first place, savvy?" If my tone is a little threatening, it's only because I'm worried.

Northwest and Dagwood exchange glances "We saw a giant flash of light!" Dagwood exclaims.

Flash of light? Oh. My fire flash. I should have known it would draw attention. I need to think fast. "Ah, yes!" I hold up a finger "Lightning! It happens…sometimes, in the winter, sometimes."

Northwest and Dagwood are still unsure, so it's up to Mabel to get us back on track "How did you get across, Mr. Mischief?"

"Great question! Ya see, Ricky and I found this land bridge that-"

"Oh for God's sake, Billy!" Ricky exclaims, climbing to her feet. She has been watching me, simmering this whole time, and she has finally snapped "Just levitate them over! We don't have time for your games!"

I startle at her sudden rage. "I don't know what you're-"

"I know you can do it. Don't lie to me, Billy! Don't _fucking_ lie to me!" Not people use that word- not in 1929. "You've been lying to me since you came here. Don't you dare lie again when you know what's at stake!"

My mouth is dry. Kind of sheepishly, I carefully pick the three humans up with my magic. They gasp with surprise when they leave the earth's surface, and are relieved to touch ground again. They brush themselves off. Dagwood, Northwest and Mabel are looking at me, stunned, and it kind of makes me mad. "We don't have much time yanno!" I snap at them, and walk to catch up with Ricky.

Where does the girl find all this energy? _I'm_ already tired and we're not even there yet. I open my mouth but she's already shutting me down "I just don't want to talk to you right now." I clench my fists. Today seems to be a parade; one screw-up after another.

So we walk some more. We are very close to where the gnome said the Man Cave was now. There is a wall of iced over stone to our left. To the right there is, of course, the chasm Ricky and I just fell into. None of us are eager to get close to it, not even me. Northwest and Dagwood are whispering to one another. I realize that, as far as safety is concerned, I should be talking to these guys. I let myself slow until they catch up. They look at me wearily, but I put my gangly arms on their shoulders.

"Sooooo, guys," I grin "good thing we made it over that little gap. And it really was a _little_ gap. Nothing to speak of- that's for sure!"

Dagwood is the type who's used to bargaining, and he says "Oh, I'm not so sure, Mischief. It seemed kind of large to me."

"I'm sure I can change your perspective on that," I say, patting his chest.

Northwest speaks up "My daughter speaks about you. You work with Clubb, correct, at The Club? And Mischief is your name?"

"That's _Billy_ Mischief, Illusionist Extraordinaire! I'm sure you've heard of me." Changing my tactic a little, I get in front of him, walking backwards. Puffs of visible steam come out of my mouth as I speak excitedly. "Hey, Mr. Northwest, if you ever need anything then I'm your guy. Really- just drop a dime and I'm sure we can make a deal."

He smiles a big, fake smile. It's unpleasant. "Right now, I only want to know your name, Billy."

He's working some kind of angle, I can tell. I don't know what it is, though. Anyway, there's no harm in a name. "William M. Cipher- I bet ya can figure out what the _M_ stands for!" Northwest and Dagwood both come to a sudden halt, which kind of disturbs my flow. "Eh, ya guys alright?" I question.

"B-bears?" Someone mumbles, then "Oh my god! BEARS!" Mabel yells, her voice louder than I've ever heard it.

It takes me a second to see them, but when I do, they are stark in the uniform white landscape. They are shambling toward us, all as tall as Labradors, but wider and made of pure muscle. Their jaws are open wide and their teeth long and sharp and saliva hangs down from them in sticky strings for good effect. They have short thick dark brown, almost black fur. They make angry groaning sounds as they come near. They form a ring around one side of the group. On the other side of us, the gaping mouth of the chasms is wide open. There are eight bears.

They round in on us, pushing us against the cliff. "I hope someone brought a gun." I state.

"Why don't _you_ do something, triangle kid?" Dagwood says to me with what I think might be hostility. What is he so mad about, all of a sudden? He's also apparently seen my costume. I clear my throat and take a step forward, preparing to do something.

"Very well, ladies and gentlemen. I usually charge admission for this, yanno, but I figure that since it's our _lives_ at stake I might-"

"Get on with it, Billy!" Ricky hisses through her teeth.

I nod "Prepare to be amazed!" I can probably scare them off with a bit of fire. Animals don't like that stuff, to my recollection.

"Boys, boys, what are you doing over there?" A lusty voice calls into the wind. Wearily, I put my arms down. Who's coming? Who would be way out here, at this time of the night?

"_Alright!_ You found visitors! Nice job, boys!" The speaker walks toward the cliff and, thus, our group. My jaw kind of drops when I see the man…person…creature…he's half cow, ok?! Well, technically he's a bull, isn't he? From the waist down, some hoofed thing. From the waist to the neck, pure muscle. I have never in my life felt like more of a wimp. I see why they call them MANotaurs. The face is a mix of the two- flat, and with large, expressive human eyes, but covered in fur tapering into a beard, with a large, flat, bovine nose, and long, leaf shaped animal ears.

"Come boys, come!" The manotaur claps his hands, each about the size of a large steak. "Don't forget our guests!"

Seven bears turn to their hunky master, but one lingers. It gets close enough to breath growl at my chest and I get the feeling I know this bear in particular.

"Why hello again," I greet "glad to be on solid ground, or ya wanna give it another go?" He's the bear from that fateful night with Smokinmirs. Went back to the wild, didn't he?

The bear is not amused by my jest and lets out a big roar, making my face hot and his breath. I get ready to unsheathe some protective flames when there is a loud trill. The manotaur is blowing a whistle. The bear winces in pain and falls back. It weakly swipes with a claw, but the sound of the whistle goes off again, and it cowers. Walking small, it makes it way back to the manotaur's side "Bad! Bad Rageclaw!" The manotaur smacks the bear between the eyes. "Save the fighting for _inside!"_

He now approaches the humans on the cliff "Come join us!" The smell of Canadian whiskey is heavy on his breath. "The party has just begun, and our tiny friend has just opened up a new cask!"

"Cask?" Dagwood repeats with a groan and rolls his eyes "Please don't let the 'tiny friend' be who I think it is!"

The manotaur seems to recognize Pines "Dagwood the Destructor! Come, come! Any friend of the magic-water-humans is a friend of mine!" When there is some hesitation, he says "I insist!" And the eight bears form a ring around us.

Rageclaw gets especially close to me. "Don't get too excited." I grumble. Some more blunt minded of you are probably thinking _Ohhh, Billy, blow them all away with your fire!_ And I tell you, I'm gauging the situation first! Too our best information, Colin the Gnome has the nectar. This guy has been taken prisoner by these manotaurs, just like we are. If I start burning manotaur fur now, I might never find out where the gnome leader is being kept.

The bears escort us into the mouth of a natural cave. We can see in said cave, because of burning torches attached to the walls on all sides, casting everything in this kind of yellow glow. There are more of the hairy man-beasts within, a lot of them wrestling with one another, one of them on top of a stone singing drunkenly, and two of them hugging and crying into one anothers' shoulders. They are clearly very drunk.

"Welcome to the Man Cave!" Says the first manotaur, who has a chipped horn and a long black beard. "And welcome to the party of the year! We call it the CeleBROtion!" He says, yelling the syllable bro. "Hey, Pectorin, look what I found wandering outside!" He leaves us to go talk to one of his brethren.

"They're drunk," Dagwood declares.

"Nice job, Sherlock, how'd ya come to that deduction?" I snark.

Dagwood glares at me "Most of the time, manotaurs are just big pushovers. They'll fight each other, but when it comes to conflicts with other races, they'll avoid them. Get them enough liquid courage, though, and that changes." His eyes are searching the cavern, and when he finds something that interests him, and says "And I know how they got that way, too." He says, taking off for a part of the cave.

Ricky also sees something of interest "Those must be the gnomes." In the direction she's looking, a number of bearded giants(well, it doesn't feel right calling them giants when I've seen the manotaurs. I mean the gnomes are big, but manotaurs are huge. The gnomes still have more impressive beards than the manotaurs, though.) who are reclined against a wall. As we watch, a manotaur looks over to the gnomes and blows a whistle. Said gnomes jump up as if whipped and start to dance, much to the manotaurs' amusement.

Ricky goes to talk to them. Northwest follows, and Mabel after. I'm about to go with them when something heavy and furry knocks me down from behind. I fall onto my face, and then I'm dragged back. Shocked, I don't at first fight. I'm rolled over onto my back brutally, by a large claw. I blink up into eight ursine faces looking down at me.

Scowling, levitate. This takes them by surprise, however I don't get far before I run into the low, cave wall. I press myself against the wall as the bears come close. One takes my leg and throws me across the floor. When I rub the concussion out of my eyes, I find that I'm in kind of a nook of the cave- and the bears are closing in. I stand up, but I'm not able to stand up straight, trapped, as I am, against the curving stone. My hands catch fire.

"I hate bears." I tell them "Actually, I hate a lot of things, but today I really hate bears. The more there are, the worse for me." My turquoise stone glows under my shirt. My pulse is fast, sweat drenches me under my winter clothes, and my breathing and mind are clear. I can feel it. These bears don't deserve to die like normal bears. It's time for some _big magic._

* * *

Even though she only wanted to speak to the gnome leader and finish this business as quickly as possible, she could not bring herself to do so while the poor creatures were humiliating themselves for the manotaurs. Ricky's feelings about the gnomes were mixed. Naturally, they kept themselves away from humans, for the most part. But it was telling that the only interaction most Fallers had with the warriors of the forest happened when something was going wrong.

The manotaurs threw their heads back and laughed at the terrified gnomes, but they were getting bored of this amusement. One of them spotted the humans come near. "What is that?" He asked his brother "It doesn't look like regular humans."

The other had his attention "That one does," he pointed to Ricky's father "the other two, though..."

The first one's nostrils began to twitch. He walked over to Ricky and smelled her before she could raise a protest. Unsure to where this was going, she stood tall, but her father exclaimed "I say! What is the meaning of that?"

"That's it, Adam!" The manotaur exclaimed, ignoring Ricky's father "They're fee-males!"

"Gross!" The one identified as Adam shuddered "Fee-males are unnatural!"

They then gave Ricky and Mabel and, by association, Ricky's father, a wide berth and retreated into the center of the cave, casting dirty bovine looks other their shoulders every once in a while. "I say," he father stated "they seemed to be terrified of that X chromosome of yours. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage."

"Lord, I hope so." Ricky growled "I am so fed up with surprises today, and if something can go my way just because of my sex, I'll take that win."

In any case, now that the two manotaurs were gone, Ricky would have a chance to talk to the gnomes. Said gnomes had collapsed on the stone floor into ragged sitting positions, panting. They looked tired, even kind of pale. Approaching, she cleared her throat "Hello."

Her father bullied his way in front of her, which was funny when you knew Ricky's Dad. Parsifal Northwest never bullied, not in a physical way. He was a gentleman, white gloves and all. Even when he pushed Ricky to the side at this moment, he whispered a quiet apology.

"Gnomes, we have come far to speak to you. Farther than we should have."

One in the back, with a flowing, white beard, straightened to a sit. The other gnomes perked up when he sat. This must have Colin, the leader. "Then talk, Kin of the Pantsless One." He said to Ricky's father.

Ricky looked to Mabel, not understanding the reference. "I don't get it either," she whispered.

"Gnomes," Ricky's father spoke "a dark time has once again come over the humans of our settlement, and like others before me, I come to try to trade with your people."

"Kind of difficult, now that we're all the manotaurs guests," Colin pointed out.

Ricky walked around the circle of gnomes, observing them. She found that Mabel was walking close to her. The poor girl was probably terrified. Why had she volunteered, anyway? Ricky wrapped her arm around the other girl's and gave Mabel's hand a discrete squeeze "It's not too late to change your mind, you know."

"My mind is already made up." She smiled sweetly at Ricky "Thank you, though."

Apart from the group, gnomes were in a small circle, hands joined. Between in the circle, drawn on the dark floor white some kind of chalky white stone was a curious device- a triangle split with a line, with an oval near the top touching two sides. The gnomes were chanting something. They were praying, Ricky realized. She wasn't sure why, but it surprised her to see that these inhuman creatures had religion and a culture all their own. Up to this point, she had kind of been thinking of them as sort of human facsimiles that hadn't come out right.

"I wonder what it represents," Ricky whispered to Mabel.

"If we humans were to get you gnomes out of this place," Ricky's father was saying, back over where Colin was "then I propose that that you would grateful enough to hand over some nectar just for that."

The gnome reclined in the stone he had been leaning against "Grateful we would be if we got our freedom. The thought is worth considering." Ricky caught Mabel's eye.

"There they are- I told you I wasn't imagining things!" The two manotaurs from before had returned, and they had a larger manotaur with them. They were pointing at Ricky and Mabel. Now what. Ricky thought with a groan.

"Smell them! They reek of hormones!" Adam said, scandalized. The big manotaur smelled Ricky. It was not any more pleasant the second time, and Ricky felt her hair ruffled by the power of his lungs.

"You're right! It is a fee-male! And the other is one, too!"

This was where Ricky's father attempted to make best of the situation "Perhaps you should let us go? Females are dangerous creatures, you know."

"No," the large manotaur said "there is only one way to dispose of a fee-male." He went to a wall and picked up a torch "Burn them so that their disease does not spread!"

"What?" Ricky, her father and Mabel all said in unison. It would have been comical under other circumstances.

A meaty hand took hold of Ricky's arm, and another meaty hand took hold of Mabel. "I say!" Ricky's father exclaimed "Unhand those girls, you ruffians! There are more civil ways of dealing with situations like this!"

"The tall humans speaks of civility," Adam observed.

"The infection of feminism must be spreading to him! Burn the male human as well!"

Ricky's father was shocked when another arm grabbed him around the middle. The manotaurs did not have to exert a lot of effort to restrain the humans. Ricky fought- punched and kicked, but uselessly. Ricky, her father and Mabel were taken to another room, with a platform made of stone in the middle. The three humans were thrown roughly onto the platform. At one side of the room, on another large platform were some rough hewn rocks thrown together to form a kind of chair. In this chair the largest, most animal-like manotaur the humans had yet seen. He towered at the height of a two story house, and was almost as wide along the shoulders.

"Leaderaur!" The manotaurs bowed subserviently "We have found these tainted humans in our cave!"

The black giant manotaur- more animal than man- roared loudly "Build the ceremonial pyre!"

The manotaurs hooted and roared in delight. Some of them began running out and coming back with whole uprooted trees. When Ricky realized they were going to drop said trees on the humans, she got to her knees and raised her hands. This was going to hurt and then it would hurt more when the manotaurs set them on fire later.

"Onwards, Multi-Bear! To honor and glory!"

Despite herself, Ricky was able to think _Billy, what are you doing now?_

The manotaurs were able to see it, and their eyes widened. Their bovine jaws dropped and they forgot about the uprooted trees they were holding. Only by peaking out between two of the manotaurs was Ricky able to see what was coming. She saw Billy clearly enough in his thick wool trousers and dark blue coat. He was standing on top of something that was running very fast. What the heck was it?

The drunken manotaurs were very excited, and moved away from the platform in a crowd. Like a bunch of kids who see St. Nicolas, they wanted to scrambled to get a closer look of this thing. Now that they had moved their hulking, stinking bodies away, Ricky finally saw what it was. It was a monster.

Billy was leaping off his steed. The boy rolled and righted himself right next to the platform Ricky, her father and Mabel were on. He magicked himself to the top of this and flashed her that annoying, shit eating grin. "I leave ya for one minute, and you start partying without me? I'm hurt, Ricky!"

He said before passing out.

"Billy?!" She got to her knees and shook him "Hey, wake up you sap!"

Something crashed into the platform. Most specifically, it was a manotaur being tossed into the thing by the monster- the thing Billy had called "Multi-Bear". It was some kind of sick amalgamation of bear heads, bear legs and bear muscle. Standing taller than any bear, it would furiously whack at the manotaurs, but even with eight heads, it could not parry all their attacks.

"This is our chance." Her father pointed out "Let's get the gnomes and get out of here!"

"I can't just leave Billy, though!" Ricky reminded her father.

"Believe me, America, considering what he is, it's best to leave him here." Her father said darkly.

Ricky narrowed her eyes "What do you mean, 'what he is'?"

He didn't get to answer her question, because something large and hairy had just been thrown over the platform and flew between them. Both Northwests saw it coming, and they have both dived in opposite directions. The manotaur landed harmlessly on the stone floor beyond the platform. Ricky tried to put her narrow body over Billy's prone one. She took his narrow face in her hands and slapped it back and forth. "Please wake up! You have no idea how important it is for you to wake up!"

Mabel was crouching on the other side of Billy's body, watching the fray. "That poor creature."

"Poor us, more like! We can't stay here, but I can't leave my boyfriend!"

"Maybe if we help the multi-bear, he'll be grateful." Mabel suggested. "Look at him- he's being destroyed." Mabel was right. The multi-bear was putting up a valiant fight, but the violent manotaurs were coming from every direction. He was loosing steam, and panting. At least one of his sixteen eyes were swollen.

"Either him or us." Ricky said, shaking Billy.

"Or both if the manotaurs come to finish the job!" Mabel had a good point. She went on "Look- they really hate girly things. They're even afraid of them!"

"So, what do you suggest, then? Should be throw our brassieres at the manotaurs?"  
_  
_Mabel seemed to consider this for a second, then said "Sing with me, Ricky."

"Huh?"

* * *

"_There's a saying old says that love is blind  
Still we're often told "seek and ye shall find"  
So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind"_

I wake up and rub my eyes. I must have fell asleep at some point. There's singing near me. At first I don't understand why I'm on the stone cave floor. It takes a few seconds for the details to come back. The trek into the wilderness which should have been unremarkable. And unexpected detour into the heart of monsters' domain. A sickness. A bear. No- not just any bear.

Not even a bear. Multi-Bear. A creature I created, with my own power. Eight bears fused into one. Eight heads, eight legs and all ferocity. My hand goes to my heart. It still aches a little. The magic leaving my body had been like a waterfall being pushed out of my non-existent chest cavity. Adrenaline had kept me going for a while, but I must have passed out!

I'm in the manotaurs' cave- the other part, where Ricky, her dad and the other girl had been taken after the manotaurs lost it. I'm now on top of that platform where I saw them. The sound of the two voices are trilling nearby. Across from me, Mr. Northwest is on his side, looking at the front of platform. And here are Ricky and Mabel are singing like a couple of carolers.

"_Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet  
He's the big affair I cannot forget  
Only man I ever think of will regret"_

Their singing has been noticed, and not just by Northwest and me. The manotaurs are distracted, looking their way. This gives my Multi-Bear an upper claw, and he turns three manotaurs onto their backs and swipes at them. Some of the manotaurs who are not immediately engaged with Multi-Bear are holding their meaty hands to their ears. A large one starts to approach the girls on the stone platform.

"Stop that girlish singing right now!" He threatens, pounding on fist into the other palm.

Mr. Northest jumps up and steps in the space of the platform between the edge and the girls. "They're doing nothing wrong!" Northwest shouts. He's nervous, but he won't back off. "You stay back, ruffian! You will not come near them!"

The manotaur smirks "Or you'll do what?"

Ricky and Mabel continue to sing, undaunted.

"_I'd like to add his initials to my monogram  
Tell me where's the shepherd for this lost lamb"_

Northwest proclaims "I'll-"

"_There's a somebody I'm longing to see  
I hope that he  
turns out to be  
Someone to watch over me"_

Northwest has joined in on the chorus. My jaw drops. Thats insane! But even more insane- the manotaur reacts! He acts act like Northwest, Ricky and Mabel have the plague. He cowers away in fear. _Oooooh,_I get now! The music is hurting them- or at least they think it is!

A wild grin climbs up onto my face. Musical warfare! I love it!

And I add my voice to the barrage.

_"I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood  
I know I could  
always be good  
To one who'll watch over me"_

Yeah I know the words. It's a pretty popular song. Ira Gershwin- _Someone to Watch Over Me_. Not my favorite- I'm really a jazz guy, but it's catchy, I guess. The manotaurs back up even more. At this point, all of the manotaurs are staring at our little quartet, mouths agape in horror. Multi-Bear uses this distraction to take advantage of them, knocking them out and throwing them out of the ring.

My monster seems to have this all wrapped up, but there is one person who is not jarred by the four singing humans. The giant manotaur in the chair pushes himself out with a vicious growl. He tilts back his head and snorts a blast of yellow flame out of his nostrils, which annoys me because he totally stole that move! Anyway, we continue to sing.

_"Although he may not be the man some girls think of  
As handsome  
to my heart  
He carries the key"_

The Alpha-Manotaur stamps toward Multi-Bear. The ground shakes, and pebbles are dislodged from the ceiling and dropped. Some of Multi-Bear's heads try to retreat into his ugly, twisted body, but of course physics won't allow for that. For the first time, Multi-Bear is afraid.

_I_ won't allow for that!

"Kill him! It's what I created you for!" I shout, disturbing the flow of the song. Mabel and Mr. Northwest stop singing. Ricky looks at me with surprise.

"But Leaderaur took us in!" Multi-Bear argues back "He gave us food scraps, and made us strong!" Ricky gasps.

"That bear can talk?!" She exclaims.

"Of course Multi-Bear can talk." Why is she asking when that's obvious?

The one called Leaderaur charges Multi-Bear. Still in a kind of emotional crisis, the bear does not dodge until the worst second. He's caught on the bull-man's horns and carried along. Leaderaur slams Multi-Bear against the wall and holds him there with his car sized hands- each one over one bear head. Multi-Bear struggles, but cannot find a way out. Leaderaur pulls back his head and is ready to gore the trapped monster.

My creation is about to fail. I had wanted so badly for him to be able to do this himself, but I can see the writing on the wall. I'll have to step in. But can I? Just creating Multi-Bear left me bushed. Suddenly-

_"Won't you tell him please to put on some speed  
Follow my lead, oh how I need-"_

The voice singing is strong and strangely pleasant despite it's growliness. It's- it is! Multi-Bear is singing! I'm so proud of him! A giant grin spreads over my face. Can this get any better?

I catch the others' eyes, and we chime in-

_"Someone to watch over me  
Someone to watch over me!"_

This is kind of the last straw for Leaderaur, who backs up as if he's been stunned. I swear he looks a few shades paler under his black face fur. His bovine mouth opens and closes uselessly a few times. Then he raises an arm and, in a voice that sounds like rocks scraping against each other, shouts "Manotaurs! Retreat!"

The manotaurs do not hesitate- having seen their leader defeated so soundly scares them more than any amount of singing. There is something of a stampede, which shakes the earth and threatens to dislodge parts of the ceiling, but after seconds, the manotaurs are gone.


	8. Eight: Holy Matrignomey

No really, gone. Where to? I couldn't care less- the creatures are just about the stupidest, most unpleasant people I have ever met. So long as they stay away from the town, they can freeze to death or fall into a volcano for all I care. Too bad there aren't any active volcanoes around here. Or are there? There are whole races of inhuman creatures hidden in the woods, so is a volcano really that unlikely?

Just as Dagwood had guessed, Roderick had been with the manotaurs all along, apparently selling them bootleg booze in exchange for gold coins. It annoys me that good whiskey went to these macho idiots, but after I see the coins, I decide that I would have made the best of the situation, as well. In any case, they treated him like a hero, which Roderick enjoyed, or so I hear.

Multi-Bear seems to be settling into the Man Cave. The gnomes are getting ready to leave. Ricky is pacing, impatient to get going. Mabel stays close to her. Dagwood is abusing Roderick's ear. Roderick and Dagwood look very similar, the main difference being that Dagwood wears a shaggy mustache whereas Roderick has a good old shaggy muttonchops.

Dagwood says something to Roderick his head whips over to me suddenly. When he notices that I'm looking back, he looks to the floor as Dagwood continues to whisper passionately. _What the heck?_ Mr. Northwest goes over to join them, and they speak in a huddle.

Ricky approaches me. I smile at her as she comes near. "Ricky, you mad genius with a lovely voice! Getting rid of those manotaurs with Gershwin was perfect!"

She gives a reluctant smile "It did work out pretty well, didn't it? But it wasn't my idea. If you want to thank anyone, you should thank Mabel."

The girl is lingering by Ricky's shoulder. She blushes "Oh, Ricky…"

I give her a small bow "You are truly unappreciated in your time, Mabel. Nice work!"

"And you're too kind, Mr. Mischief!" She turns even more red.

"Kind? Please! Don't spread those ugly rumors about me!" I say dramatically, clutching my heart. Mabel's nose crinkles. It's about as close to laughing as I've seen her come. Hey, at least it's something.

Ricky squeezes Mabel's arm. "Mabel, can I have a moment with Billy?"

"Oh! Of course," she says, wandering just out of earshot. Ricky thanks her and pulls me aside.

"Billy, can you please do me a favor an explain…" she gestures to my hands, and then to Multi-Bear in the corner of the cave, and then to the air above her head "I mean…"

I nod "I owe you an explanation, Ricky." I glance over to the gnomes. They seem to be wrapping up "But can it wait? I need to talk to Multi-Bear right now."

She blinks "That monster? But why?"

"America?" Northwest comes up behind me, his voice and accent the epitome of politeness "Could you come here for a moment? I'd like to have a few words with you."

He looks into my eyes, and I nod. "On the way back." We slip past one another, as Multi-Bear is behind her just as Northwest is behind me. There is a natural hot spring, and Multi-Bear is pawing this curiously. Even though I'm approaching him from the back, he sees me before I get close. This is one of the many benefits of having eight heads.

"You've come back," his main head speaks in his throaty voice "now you can destroy me."

Taken aback, I come to a stop "Destroy you? Why would I ever destroy you?"

Multi-Bear bows. Or at least, he tries to bow. Five heads go down, but two others on his pelvis and one on his back rises. "Please, Master, do the deed! I am an abomination- a being which should not exist!" His yellow, egg shaped eyes open and he locks his with mine "Please do make us as we were before!"

"Ahahahaha!" Oh, he slays me! "That's not going ta happen, pal!" I inform him "Look, Multi-Bear, I made you. And you're great! Ya got brains, now! If I take that all away, you're nothing. You're just a bunch of stupid _bears_!"

"Exactly," Multi-Bear sighs. "But Master! What shall I do now? How shall I live?"

"Ya got this swell cave, don't ya? Hey, I know I'm a city slicker, but even I know caves like these aren't a dime a dozen! And I bet all the girl bears love a guy with eight arms!" I tap my noggin "Huh? Didn't think of that, did ya?"

Multi-Bear looks very sad indeed. I grind my teeth as I'm getting a little tired of his moping "Oh, get over it! Yeah, you're a freak, but so what? Freaks are just great, pal! I'm a freak, and you don't see _me _complaining about it! Anyway, I got a question for ya."

Multi-Bear's main head raises, and the other heads look about, sniffing for food. "Oh? Well, go ahead, then."

"You were an animal, so you tell me: why is it? Why don't they ever give me any kind of peace?"

Multi-Bear takes a few seconds before speaking "Why do we attack you relentlessly? Why are we always trying to kill you? Isn't that obvious, Master?"

It's not, and instead of answering him, and I wait, arms crossed over chest, staring into the eyes on the main head. Never in my life have I gotten the chance to ask this question, and it's been driving me screwy pretty much since I can remember. I resolve to wait him out.

"Because you'll destroy everything!" Multi-Bear cries.

I blink in absolute surprise "No I won't! Why would I even- why do you even-?!"

"You think you know better than I do?" The freak ursine challenges.

"Well, duh! I'm myself! I know me pretty well!"

Multi-Bear snickers, but not in any sort of happy way "Apparently not."

This guy is getting me mad. My right hand catches fire. If Multi-Bear won't give me a decent answer, I'll get an answer out of him.

"Very well!" I hear Mr. Northwest call. "Everyone's fit to travel! We're ready to go!"

I extinguish the flame "You were lucky." I tell Multi-Bear before joining the others.

* * *

The trek down hill is easier than it had been going to the so-called Man Cave in the first place, especially now that the winter storm has died down. Snowflakes still loiter in the air, but these has already fallen once- they're just light enough for the wind to pick up again and make it _look_ like it's still snowing.

I approach Ricky, but her father immediately calls her to his side. Now there are several reasons why this could be happening, but I get the sense that Northwest saw how close Ricky and I had been getting to one another and his protectiveness is acting up. I can't say that his protective nature is entirely a bad thing. Fella was willing to stand up to a man-beast twice his size to protect his daughter. That's fairly admirable. I just don't like when he gets between Ricky and _me_.

Ricky squeezes my hand and whispers "later." She goes to join him. I frown as I watch the two of them walk in parallel.

"Mr. Cipher!"

"The one and only!"

The Pines brothers have joined me- one on each side. Kind of like being penned in. I discard that thought and give them a friendly smile. "Fellas! Yanno, there's one thing that's bothering me. Where'd a bunch of hairy manotaurs get gold coins?" I ask.

Roderick puts his arm around and squeezes me close. I gasp a little, in surprise, because the bootlegger has some serious upper arm strength "Gold? What are you talking about, Cipher?"

Dagwood rests his elbow on my shoulder. Okay, now I really am penned in. "There's no gold in these mountains."

"None at all."

"What gave you that idea?"

"But, guys-" I interject, trying to push myself out of Roderick's arm pit.

"Nope, no gold at all, ya follow?" Roderick looks down at me over his bulbous nose.

"The gold is a myth." Dagwood says.

Well this is annoying. I look between the twins. But maybe I can use this to my advantage. "You know, there are a lot mythological things up here in these mountains."

Now I have the Pines' attention.

I clear my throat "I mean, gaps that you would have to fly over, bears with eight heads…"

They exchange glances. "What do you think, Daggy?"

"I keep telling you not to call me that," Dagwood states, and "I think the kid might be right."

Roderick scratches his chin "I think he might be right, too." He said "I mean, I don't believe I really did see a bear with eight heads. Eight bears with one head each, maybe, but that's not unusual!"

"Not unusual at all!" Dagwood interjects. "And that gap…well, as our friend Cipher said before, it was pretty small. Big enough to step over."

"I wasn't there," Roderick points out "so I'll have to take your word on it for that one." He removes his arm and slaps me on the back "In fact, the way I see it, our pal Cipher was dead weight pretty much the whole time."

Dagwood snorts "He didn't lift his finger once to help us out!"

"Lazy city slicker. They're all the same!"

I pull ahead and walk backwards ahead of them "What can I say? I'm a good-for-nothing. And just let me assure you gentlemen, if you ever need any more nothing again, I'm your guy." I trust the Pines. The business they're in means that their lives revolve around secrets. Mr. Northwest I'm not so sure about. He's not, himself, a politician, but he is a public figure, albeit as much of a public figure you can be in Gravity Falls. The world _public_ is my problem.

"I wonder if Mr. Northwest needs nothing." I speculate.

"I'm sure he can be convinced that he does," Roderick says.

The Pines and I trail behind Northwest and the ladies. We're back at the gnome forest, but Northwest has gotten into something of a yelling match with Colin the Gnome. We walk right into this.

"I say old man! You said yourself that you would consider new terms of the deal if we won you your freedom!"

"I recall saying we would be grateful," Colin says guardedly "and that we are- aren't we, my brethren?" A number of gnomes nod in accent. "But the way I see it, you were just as trapped as we all were. You benefitted from your actions just as much as we did- maybe even more so."

"Why you knave!" Northwest exclaims, gripping his cane. I don't think he knows how to use it like a weapon- it's just a nervous gesture.

"Now, now, dear Kin of the Pantsless One! I simply cannot provide you with the nectar you desire if we gnomes don't get what we need! My brethren will simply not allow it." He sounds too cocky. I wonder, what do the gnomes want, anyway?

"It's okay, Mr. Northwest, I'm ready." Mabel speaks up softly, and steps forward from behind him.

She steps up to Colin and curtsies. "Colin- gnomes, will you be my husbands, and join me in holy matrimony?"

"Wait. Wait. _What?"_My jaw pretty much falls off its hinge.

"Fair haired Mabel! I was hoping it would be you and not the argumentative one!" Colin exclaims, then says "Wait a minute- we're suppose to propose to you!"

"What?!" For a whole minute, it seems, my mouth is incapable of saying anything else.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Mabel blushes "Shall we try that again?"

Colin shakes his head "Never mind, we gnomes accept! All hail Queen Mabel!" The gnomes cheer and Colin bestows on her a ring with a large, spiny stone. Then the leader gnomes extends an elbow. "Allow me to escort you to your palace, my darling."

"What?"

"Thank you, Colin. But there is something my human friends need first." Mabel says politely.

Colin nudges a very young looking gnome; a preteen gnome, if you will "Smithy- go get the nectar!" The young gnome nods excitedly and scurries off between giant mushrooms.

Mabel takes Mr. Northwest's hands "Thank you for watching over me on this trip."

"Oh, darling..." his face looks heavy "thank you- Gravity Falls will forever be in your debt! If there was another way, that did not mean losing someone else, I would-"

Mabel shakes her head "Don't fear, Mr. Pines! The gnomes will be kind to me, I'm sure. And besides, there's nothing for me left in Gravity Falls." She says sadly, then finds and hugs Ricky "You were brilliant back at the Man Cave. I'm sorry I never got to know you better."

"What?"

The gnome identified as Smithy returns, carrying a clear, glass bottle with some liquid in it. Though it is a pinkish, kinda magenta color, it glows, creating its out light. He hands this to Mr. Northwest.

Mabel turns to Colin and nods. He asks "May I carry you over the threshold?" Mabel shrugs and the giant humanoid takes her in his arms.

"What?"

* * *

"That…that."

"Cipher," Roderick clears his throat "you've been saying 'what-what' and 'that-that' since we left the gnome forest. Are you alright?" He adds, concerned "You're not coming down with the flu, are you?"

We're finally back on Cemetery Lane. I blink the what-the-fuck out of my eyes, and finally look at bootlegger. "Roderick," I begin "Listen, I'm not right in the head. I'm the guy who was making Donner Party jokes a week ago. But that was completely screwed up!"

"Really?" He sounds surprised "You found Miss Trembley marrying the gnomes to be disturbing?"

"Didn't you?" I look at him in horror "Oh jeez, don't tell me I was the only person bothered by that!"

Roderick stares at the ground in front of his feet "I suppose one gets used to things. To us Fallers, the gnomes, and their unique needs, are simply a fact of life. On the bright side, we are no longer in the habit of sending pre-teen girls the gnomes' way."

"How honorable of you." I snark.

"Do not worry about Miss Trembley. You will never see her again, anyway. No one will."

"This is actually not making me feel better." I point out.

Roderick shrugged again "I don't know what else to say. It's true what she said- there is nothing left for her Gravity Falls. Do you something of the family history?"

"Of the Trembleys, I'm guessing?"

"Horribly impaired," Roderick speaks gravely, then taps his cranium "it's the mind, you know. Hugh Trembley died trying to tame devour an entire oak tree. Donovan Trembley passed away trying to use mackerels as water shoes. Do you see the theme here?"

"So mad, then?"

"That's a kind way of putting it. Madmen, trouble makers, good for nothings...in any case, their name is now gone in Gravity Falls."

"How...great." I mutter.

* * *

We get back to Dr. Pitt's practice at some AM hour that is, none the less, still dark. The doctor already has tree sap, peanut brittle, and essence of peach pit measured out. Once the concoction is mixed, the doctor forces everyone in our party to take a swallow, since most of us have been exposed to people with Squirrel Flu. It's an awful experience. Needless to say, those four flavors don't mix to make anything nice.

The doctor wants someone young and full of vigor to distribute the medicine throughout town. So, that's me. Me, and Ricky, and the two Pines run to all four corners of the town, despite the fact that we're all exhausted from or trip and crabby. I get the corner of the west part of Gopher Road, over by the church, knock on people's doors, and hand them small bottles of medicine. Despite the hour, at every door I knock someone is awake and grateful to take it.

I'm more exhausted than I can describe by the time I'm done. I've been awake for twenty hours straight, and half that time has been spent climbing mountains, defending myself from bears, and performing two very big spells. I don't even have enough energy to check in on Gus- not that Dr. Pitt will let me see him. I go back to the shed and crash. Gompers is there to greet me when I get there. His apathy that I've arrived warms my heart. Better than other animals, anyway.

_You'll destroy everything!_

Stupid bear head. What does he know?

"Hey pal," scratch the goat behind the horns- where he likes it "sorry- I didn't get ya any tin cans this time. I'll make it up to ya-aaaaauuuh." Yawning, I fall into my cot, asleep. It's dreamless, as usual.

* * *

Parsifal Northwest went directly to his home where his son was being cared for by Wendy, the maid. Parsifal handed her the vial Dr. Pitt had given him. Once the drug was administered, there was really nothing to do but wait.

And Parsifal did wait- waited until young Yukon showed signs of color and vitality, and until his cough died so much that it did not rock his whole body. By the time Parifal was leaving his son's side, the front door was opening and he heard his daughter's youthful voice. "Gus and his father are fine!" She called as she ran up the stairs, and came face to face with Parsifal "How's-"

"Awake, but tired." Because this did not completely answer America's question, Parsifal went on "He's fine. You can go in there and say hello, don't keep him awake."

America nodded, pecked Parsifal on the cheek and ran in. Parsifal made his way to the study. Said room was elegantly decorated, with a large, stately desk of redwood, lots of deep burgundy, old books in excellent condition, some letters from important people, and a leather helmet from his days at college.

There was a telephone on the desk- one of only a handful in town, really, and what a hulking thing it was, crouching in the corner like it might bite. Parsifal picked up the receiver and input the area code. He shuffled over to the window. Parsifal pulled back the curtain and glanced out. This window provided an excellent view into the Gleeful yard, and from here Parsiful had watched the boy Mischief- or rather, Cipher- fool around with young Gleeful more than once. He hadn't thought much of what he had seen before. Though he had known that Cipher and his daughter were something of an item, he had full expectations that the fling would crumble before it became serious. Cipher hadn't been the first out-of-towner Ricky had taken an interest in.

The boy was a harmless fool- just like the others. Or so Parsifal had believed up to this point.

Almost as if summoned by thoughts, the boy stumbled into the picture, letting his hands hang to his side out of exhaustion. Parsifal watched him curiously, until the out-of-towner let himself into the shed and disappeared from view.

Parsifal spoke the name he wanted to speak to, and waited some more. He moved back to the desk. Once he heard the voice he wanted to hear, Parsifal smiled "Dear Robert," he spoke "sorry to bother at this early hour!" A pause as Robert spoke "Oh yes, everything is just fine up here in Gravity Falls, but for one thing. Basically, I think you'd be highly interested to know about our newest resident."

His eyes wandered, settling on a piece of headgear on a stand- a fez, really, deep red in color. In a regal gold thread was a motif that resembled a fish eating a dot.


	9. Nine: American Warlock

I don't know what time it is when I wake up, but the sun's high in the sky by the time I'm stepping out of the shed. For once, it hasn't snowed- these eighteen on the ground are the same eighteen inches from the night before. I decide to grab a spoon and a can opener and take a walk through town. I make my way down Gopher Road going west, past houses and past the crate and barrel factory, to the grocery store. I see the grocer there, and too late. Poolcheck asks me how the expedition went the night before.

I shrug. I don't know what Roderick and Dagwood's story are, so I have to be very careful not to say anything that would conflict with them. That being said, we should probably meet up at some point to make sure we're not both telling different tales. "It was annoying, actually." I shrug. "But we got though it."

His eyes are tired "Well, I thank you anyway- and Parsifal, and the others," he gestures around the room "take anything you want, half price!" This is less generous than it sounds: Downe went up on all his prices nearly 100% after the snows set in.

So I buy a can of tomato soup at half doubled price. I open it up on the way back, warm it with my hands and drink it straight from the can as I walk. Good eats, huh? I decide to take a bit of a detour through a gap cutting through to Town Square, then up Main Street. Gravity Falls appears to be resting- not many people are out, and even the wind is giving it a break.

I get back to the Gleeful house just as I'm finishing my breakfast. I let all the liquefied tomato concoction that's going to fall on my tongue, then lick my lips. I notice Gompers watching me with questioning, coin slot eyes. "Here ya go, buddy. Knock yourself out." I toss the can his way and he picks it up in his teeth. Thus is our regular morning ritual: I buy a can of something for breakfast, eat it, and Gompers gnaws on the can for the rest of the day. The back yard is more or less a Civil War battlefield, only instead of prostate 18-25 year old men, the casualties of war are smashed and chewed on soup cans.

"There you are!"

I don't expect to see Mr. Gleeful there, in his coat and boots, so it kind of surprises me he calls out to me. He's on the porch, but the short man closes the distance between us quickly.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" I ask.

"Never waste the sunlight! Besides, it's almost three in the afternoon."

"That answers one question," I say to myself more than him.

"Come join us, Mr. Mischief."

"I-come again?"

Mr. Gleeful wants me to come to breakfast. After I get over the initial shock of this I follow him in, weary of some kind of trap. Mr. Gleeful has made it very clear in the past his cold feelings toward me. The thing is, you never forget having a gun shoved in your face. But the miner sits me down at the small kitchen table. Laid out in front of me is a veritable buffet of goodies- mashed potatoes and canned peaches and buttermilk and salt pork. "Is it my birthday?" I ask the air. Actually, my birthday is in March, but Gleeful doesn't know this.

"We just thought you could have something a little more nourishing than those awful canned soups you eat all the time." Mr. Gleeful said.

"Oooh," I said softly. "Well, thank you for the generosity." There is a question in my eyes as I look at Mr. Gleeful. Since when does he do anything kind for me?

"You ate already, didn't you?" The voice is right around pubescent- no longer boyish and sweet, but not quite a man's voice yet. It squeaks comedically. The voice belongs to Gus- out of bed and with color in his cheeks. I blink and look him over as if he might be some kind of ghost and, after deciding that he's not, nod satisfied, to myself.

I haven't answered his question. I don't say anything but smile sheepishly. Red liquid colors my teeth.

Mr. Gleeful still insists that I eat, and I look at the food questioningly, wondering whether it's worse to appear rude or accept something probably laced with poison. If it's poisoned, the Gleefuls have some sort of immunity, because Gus is eating with, well, gusto.

I finally decide that life is short, and if gets a little shorter, that's not a big deal, in the grand scheme of things. I dig into the potatoes, finding them to be more than adequate. Though it is a bit worrisome. My body has had a near constant supply of condensed food and hooch, to the point where if I died at any moment, I would probably never decompose due to all the salt and alcohol in my system. I know I'm making fatal changes to that chemical balance with this new fangled thing called real food.

And, whaddya know, it actually _is_a trap. Gus and his dad want to know all about the adventure in the forest, and I can't leave- not now that I've accepted Mr. Gleeful's home cooking. I tell a very bare bones tale about finding the gnome forest more or less wrecked, and having to take a detour to the Man Cave. Skip a bit to the part where the manotaurs invite us in. Skip again to the part where Ricky and Mabel start singing to get the manotaurs to leave them alone. Then some awkward skirting about so that none of us have to talk about Mabel Trembley or her fate. Then I bring the story to an end.

The Gleefuls are very tickled by my city slicker reactions and descriptions of the manotaurs, so of course, I ham this part up. _"Huge!_ Big as a truck! What do they even _eat?"_ I pinch my nose with my thumb and index knuckle "And don't even get me _started_ on the smell!"

"The best thing is, if you go back to California, no one will believe you!" Mr. Gleeful says with a laugh.

I shrug "I could take always take a photograph."

By Mr. Gleeful's expression, he had not considered this.

Mr. Gleeful excuses himself from the table, and I discreetly let out a breath. I lean across the table and look at Gus. Just get a look at his face, his complexion, the way his hair falls.

"You alright, Billy?" He raises an eyebrow.

I nod. This is awkward. I put my elbow on the table and cup my chin in my hands. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"Perfectly fine." He scratches the back of his neck "Honestly, I can hardly remember anything about being sick. I fell asleep at some point and then later I woke up." He shrugged "I guess I was bad off, because the doctor seemed pretty worried. But I'm fine now! Why?" He frowns "You weren't worried about me too, were ya?"

I cross my arms "Me? Worry? Pft. You're outta your mind, kid! Yeah, I was worried. Worried I'd have to find a new tailor. Honestly! Worried!" I roll my eyes.

Gus smirks "Awww, Billy, you were worried! It's okay, _my marshmella!_" He teases "Don't fret your pretty little head anymore about lil ol' me!"

I put my elbows on the table and interlace my fingers between them. Putting my chin on my fingers and battering my overlong lashes I coo "Garsh, Gus, do you really think I'm _pretty?"_

He snorts with laughter. Yep, the same old Gus. But I have to press him some more. Find out what he remembers. "So ah, do you remember that happened before you fell asleep?"

Again the boy shrugs "It kind of blurs into each other…I mean my fever dreams and reality. One minute I'm out on the bed, feeling like I'm dying, the next I'm riding a four-armed fish named Aoshima…?" I smirk at this. I will always and forever be envious of other people and their dreams. Other people have dreams about doing crazy, impossible feats. Why, I once knew a guy who dreamt he had eaten the Statue of Liberty in an ice cream cone and it had turned him into a pink dog who could sing opera. And after telling me this he turned to me and acted like this was normal. He gets all that when he sleeps, and I get a hill of beans.

In any case, it seems that Gus doesn't remember what got him as sick as he got. Good. No need to dwell on that.

"You were there to." He adds.

"Oh. Yeah?" Or maybe he actually _does _remember? "Well," I try to save, with a shit-eating-grin "of course you would dream about _me_. It was about me being the bees knees, wasn't it?"

"Actually, I dunno, you were different…" he says, forking his salt pork.

"Different? How?" I cock my head.

Gus rubs his head "I can't remember that well. But you seemed, more cruel? Eh," he rubs the side of his plate with his thumb pad "Once you made Aoshima disappear, and I was falling to my death…" He shrugs it off, then smiles impishly. "Don't worry, Billy, I won't hold it against ya!"

I cross my arms and look at him wearily "I sense an 'if' coming on."

"If you break up with Ricky Northwest."

I'm genuinely surprised by this, and I just sort of give Gus a blank look. Is he really still stuck on my girl? One would think he would get a reality check and figure out that nothing would ever happen between the two of them.

Gus sighs, and says "Just kidding, Billy."

* * *

Besides, I don't think I could break up with Ricky if I wanted to; I never have the chance. She's almost always in the mansion, and when I go to the door, the servants tell me the Northwests are not seeing guests. In those rare moments when she does leave the house, she's accompanied by her father, or her brother, or one of her father's staff. I cannot, of course, have a decent conversation with one of them nearby, and of course giving us our space is not something I can request. I do make a point of greeting her when I see her in public places like the grocery store or the post office, but I don't get much further than a greeting before whoever is accompanying her is nudging her in another direction.

It's because of her father. I know it is. Somehow, he figured out who Ricky's secret boyfriend was- if she had been trying to keep me a secret at all. I don't know why he wants put up a wall between Ricky and me _now_. Maybe dealing with the gnomes and the manataurs- both who could have caused potential harm to Ricky in different ways- made him extra protective of his little girl. But Northwest must know that I'm different. I am a human being, after all! I'm on their side!

This persists for two more days. It's not just that I have to talk to Ricky. I need to speak to Northwest, too. How can he know my secret is safe with him? At the very least I get to talk to the Pines and we can finally get our stories synchronized.

On the second night, I'm sleeping curled under five layers of wool blankets, when I hear a sound come from the shed doors. I sit bolt upright I bed. There is a crack under the door through which I can see a shadow moving about. I'm quiet as I slip from the bed, even using the inch-of-air trick to make my footsteps completely silent. I grab a shovel from the corner and make my way to the door.

I stand for about five seconds, trying to divine what is going on that other side of the wall. How nice it would be to have eyes everywhere; to just KNOW things! I bet you would be the smartest guy in the world. Some movement by my feet- something is being slipped under the door. Delicate fingers push it in, then I can hear the weight of the person on the other side shifting. They're getting up. Their shadow through the crack under the door goes away, leaving the thing they pushed down there entirely illuminated.

I'm curious to see what it is, but I am more concerned with the person outside. How do I know I won't be attacked as soon as I let my guard down? I crack the door open and put an eye to it. I gaze out into the empty yard. I glance the frozen ground. It hasn't snowed in days, but it hasn't been warm enough to melt, either, so its hardening into a dirty white crust. I finally see movement- a figure making their way to the back door of the Northwest house. They are wearing a dark cloak, but when they open the door from within, I get a glance of a round face and straight brown hair. The Northwests' maid, Wendy.

I let the door close and latch it from within. Now I pick up the folded piece of paper pushed beneath the door. It's folded into a 2"x2" square, so I go about unfolding this. Once unfolded, there is a short, simple message that reads "Lookout Point, 3:30 PM tomorrow." Below is a simple device- an A and an N written together, so that it either looks like an A with an extra vertical line, or an N that's been crossed through. Ricky's signature.

* * *

Will this winter never end?!

I have come to a conclusion. Hell is _not_ hot. Heat is good. Heat is movement and life and coffee and tea and hot cocoa. Hell cannot be hot. Hell is cold. Hell is winter. Hell is Canada! Tell the scientific community! Canadians are demons incarnate!

These are my thoughts as I make my way, walking, up the twisting, mountain road to Lookout Point, my hat covering my ears, and my scarf tied every which way I can think of to get it to cover my face and neck. It's times like this that I get to really think about where my life is going. Seventeen years old. Even more broke then when I got here. Everyone in Gravity Falls knows my name, or at least, my stage name, but that is literally less than a thousand souls. I know every face, not because I'm extremely friendly, but because there are not that many faces to know.

If I was smart, I would get out. So then, why don't I? Am I really so hung up on Ricky? She's a great girl, and a lot of fun, but there are a lot of fish in the sea. My job isn't the greatest, even though it does give me a lot of freedom in what I do and how I do it. So what's keeping me here, I wonder?

I reach the point. No one's here. Ah, well. It can't hurt to walk a few more steps. Out to the drop off. Close enough so that I can see the town cradled in the valley below. In the light of day, I can see a lot more than any night. The houses and trees look like toys, especially next to the Old Greasy- the big redwood tree that grows off the center of town. The two water towers like bastions standing over everything. I see where two waterfalls feed into lakes, though ironically enough I'm at the wrong angle to view the hulking Lake Gravity Falls.

A rumbling engine and the sound of tires on gravel. A smile comes to my face and I turn around. The Lincoln Model L makes a turn in the car park and comes to a stop. Ricky opens the front door and gets out to talk to me, but I run to the car "Better idea- let's talk inside!" I call to her. I get to the passenger side door and try to open it, but the door stays where it is. My brain is frozen and sluggish enough that I don't realize right away that the door is locked and kind of stare at it for a good three seconds wondering why it won't work.

Ricky whistles to me and tosses me something. It's a key. "I've got to have a smoke." She says "You wanna join me?"

"I'd rather de-thaw if that's not a problem," I say, already putting the key in the lock.

"It's thaw."

"What?" The passenger door is already open. What minimal heat is in the cabin is escaping. _Hurry up, Ricky!_

"It's thaw," she says again "the word you want. To de-thaw would be…to freeze something again after you've brought it down from a frozen state. Or something like that." She shrugs and lights her cigarette, then looks back at me "What?" She asks, because I'm smirking.

"I told you all that edjumacating was turning ya into a robot."

"Oh yeah? And here comes the robot uprising!" She fires back, chucking a snowball in my direction. I hop in the cab and close the door just in time for the icy projectile to smash right into the glass. She had good aim this time, just not good timing. As the ice crystals slip down the glass, I see her out there, in her scarf and coat, one annoyed hand on her hips, the other cradling the cigarette, he eyes narrowed. I coyly wave and, haughtily, she turns her head and blows smoke into the air.

By the time Ricky finishes her cigarette and comes back to the car I'm reclined on the front bench seat with my head on the passenger side. She opens the door and startles when she sees the fireball hovering in the air above the steering wheel. I sit up and grab the fireball from the air, absorbing it. "Sorry, did I scare ya?" I ask, trying to sound genuine.

Ricky seems to be considering this question. She says "It's toasty in here."

"Yeah, and you're letting the heat out! Hurry up and get in!" I beseech.

Ricky does so, shutting the door behind her. "I should have known you have an ace up your sleeve." She says. Car heaters are notoriously lousy.

I bring my nose close to hers "They're a magician's sleeves, Doll, whaddya expect?" We kiss one, twice…then she pulls away.

"Billy…" she opens her eyes, leans her forehead against mine "that's what we need to talk about."

I give a pleading smile "Oh come on, Ricky! I haven't even talked to you for two days. Let's just-" I move in for a kiss, but she turns away.

She takes my hands and leans back in the seat. "I know. And I'm sorry." She says "Father's been keeping such a close eye on me. Won't even let me leave the house by myself."

"I noticed that!"

"I had to sneak out while he was at one of his club meetings." She rolls her eyes. "I bribed Wendy. He'll only be gone for two hours. Look, this might be the last time I see you before I go back to school. We have to make this time matter."

My eyes widen "What? When are you leaving?"

"Two days."

"And your dad- he's not showing signs of letting up?"

"He'll come around." She pulls her knees up by her chin "But it will take more than two days."

"Well that's just-!" I make a fist which erupts into flame. Blue turns red for a moment. Blue is control, power. Red is a loss of control- emotions overcoming you. I hope Ricky understands what the colors mean because I am, for the moment, tongue tied with my frustration. Here I thought Ricky and I were going to come up with some solution to our situation, but all she wants to do is talk business! I wave the stupid red fire away. "It's a drag, savvy?!"

While my hand is engulfed in flame, she gets this odd, faraway look on her face and watches the fire. When it's gone, she nods at my words and takes the offending hand and pulls it toward her. Since it's my right hand, it's on the other side of my body from her, so I end up doing this weird twist. "Eh, Ricky?"

She blinks, as if coming out of a dream. Her eyes meet mine. "Does it hurt when you do that?" She asks.

I purse my lips. I've already revealed so much to her by accident, it's not like I can dig myself any deeper. "No. Fire never hurts."

"Never?" She's surprised, but not disbelieving. "But how is that possible?"

I take my hand back gently and offer her my left so that I don't have to twist in my seat. She takes this with delicate fingers and traces the lines of the palms. "Have you ever learned about witches in school?" I asked "Real witches- like the trials in England and New England?"

"Yes…"

"They told ya that witches couldn't drown, but you could burn 'em at the stake and kill 'em. Do you know about the Ordeal by Cold Water?"

"Tie a person up," Ricky said "throw them in the water…if they sink, they're a normal human. If they float, fish them out and kill them some other way." She nodded. "Pretty barbaric- the things we humans will do to each other."

I shrug "Sounds like the fun to me. Unless you're the one being tied up and thrown into the water…"

She cocks her head "Please don't tell me you're being serious."

I smirk, but it fades the more I look into her eyes "Fine. I won't tell ya, then." She purses her lips. To distract her, I go on "That's not the point, though. The point is, all those people that wrote about witches- they must notta been witches themselves. If they had been, they wouldn't have mixed up those two."

She examines my palm "Does that make you a witch, then?"

I open my mouth, chuckle uncomfortably "Well-"

"A warlock?" She looks into my eyes.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? You don't know?"

I shrug "When I find someone else in the world that can do what I do, I'll call myself whatever they call themselves."

Ricky accepts this logic "Witches, warlocks…those are impossible!" She says.

I chuckle "Yeah! And so are manotaurs!" I point out.

"Alright, you win!" Then she frowns "But why didn't you tell me?" She asks. Her eyes are pained.

Mine are too. It wasn't like I was trying to hurt her. "Ricky, did we not just talk about the Ordeal by Cold Water?"

"It's the twentieth century, Billy!" She nudges me on the shoulder "People don't drown witches anymore. Warlocks. Whatever."

"Of course they don't," I snark "they got rid of em all in the sixteen hundreds!"

The smile, which had only been halfway there in the first place, melts entirely from her face. She purses her lips. "Oh, I think I get it." She clasps my hand "Life must have been pretty scary for you, all your life."

I snatch my hand away "Now listen, Ricky, I don't want your _pity_."

Ricky blinks at me. "What, pity?" She folds her hands on her sides "I don't pity you. I actually feel like I don't even know you." And cups her hands on her knees "I did, and then that was taken away from me. Billy," she has that fierce light in her eyes again "was any of it true? Anything you told me when we came here before?" She gestures to the outside of the car, to lookout point. This was the place where we smoked, where we made love, and where we talked to each other for hours on end. "You told me your mother left when you were five. Was that true, or was that a lie to make me pity you? Oh wait, you don't like pity!"

This is harder than I expected. I lean my elbow on the window, as if trying to push through the glass to freedom. My fingers are on my forehead gripping my hairline. "I haven't been forthcoming about a lot," I admit, "but I told a lot of truths."

"But you told a lot of lies too, right?"

I look back at her. I nod. "Of course. I had to make my stories make sense, without magic."

She flops into the seat, standing plank straight with her knees together and her hands folded on her lap. "I just don't know what's a lie and what's the truth any more." Translation: _I might never trust you again._

I roll my head back and stare up into the interior roof of Ricky's car. Not exactly a majestic skyscape or anything. I blow air out of my cheeks moodily.

"Look. Pops did kick my Mom out when I was five. And it had a little ta do with what she taught me- about magic." Not her eyes widen as she realizes the weight of that statement "Yeah. Pops wanted me to be a normal kid- normal as possible. Mom wanted me to reach my 'full potential'," I say making air quotes. "So she started teaching me at a young age, all this stuff about spells and hexes.

"But that was only part of the story. Pops kicked her out a few days after she hid this."

I reach down into my shirt, find the amulet, grip it and pull it out. I display it for her to view. "Pops gave this to me. Got it from a friend in Colorado. It helped me. But my mom didn't want that."

She narrows her eyes and cocks her head "What do you mean, it helped you?"

"I used to have this problem with my magic. I couldn't control it. I was a terror, actually," I shrug "not that I remember. But I guess Pops was prit-ty afraid of me." I grin. "This actually acted as kind of a dam for my powers. It would stop them from doing whatever they wanted, so I was in control."

"Can I see it?" She requests. I'm surprised by this request but I nod, getting the rest of the chain up over my head. I hand her the necklace and pull my arms away. Then I gasp, just a little gasp, in surprise. Suddenly, by back is against a wall. Not a normal wall. A wall that's alive, and buzzing with motion. It's a wall of energy shoving against me.

"You alright, Billy?"

I blink. I can still feel the wall. It's not shoving quite so hard. That's weird. I nod and, after a second, say "Yeah…just got a chill, I think." The heat has dissipated in the cab. "Do you mind if I uh-"

"Oh! Well, I suppose not. But don't let it catch." She puts her gloved hands on the seat lovingly, as if stroking it "She's my baby. If you hurt her, I'd have to kill you. Preferably by Ordeal by Cold Water." She says wickedly.

"Yikes! Alright, alright! I won't hurt the _precious baby_." I create a fireball and set it floating between us, equidistant from the canvas roof and the leather seats and the dash, which has some wood in it. Ricky backs away nervously. Oh, right. Being on fire hurts for most people, doesn't it?

She inspects the amulet the same way she inspected my hand. I take a look at this- the hand that is. Not that there's much to see. You can't tell from my palms that I might or might not be a warlock. I have a lifeline and a heart line and marriage line just line everyone else. The only thing that bothers me about my hands is that I have three fingers and a thumb. I know it's not a big deal, but come on, I'm seventeen years old and I have these kiddy hands!

"Ouch!" I hear from the other side of the cab.

"Huh?" I glance at my fireball. Pretty much staying where I put it. The heat from it has made a significant change in the temperature of the cab, and one almost feels comfortable enough to take off one's coat. Almost. Not quite yet. "Ricky? Did it burn you?" I ask.

She shakes he head "Shock. From your necklace."

_"Amulet."_ I correct her. "Must be static electricity. From my shirt."

"So, what happened with your mom?" She nudges, casting me a glance.

I lean back, and glance out the window, to think "Well, as I said, she hid that from me. Glaumed it offa me while I was sleeping."

"What happened? Did not having it make you sick?"

"Eh, I _was _five." I remind her. "I don't _remember _feeling bad but, well…"

"You were five," she says with a nod.

"I did burn the house we were living in down, and that was frowned upon."

Ricky's jaw drops and her eyebrows shoot up. Despite myself, I'm amused by her expression "Oh yeah." I grin "I guess even back then, I was the little Hell-raiser. Pops sure was mad. And then one of the fire fighters pulled Mom's jewelry box out of the rubble, with my amulet _in_ it, and he _lost _it."

"Were you hurt in the fire?"

"Yes. I lost an eye."

"Really?!" Now she looks like she might loose both eyes- like they're going to pop out of her skull! "One of those is glass?!"

"Of course not! I'm just kidding!" I laugh, bracing myself against the passenger side door "You shoulda seen your face, Ricky!"

"Watch it- I'm not done being sore!" She simmers.

"That's what she said!"

_"Billy!"_

"Alright, alright! Sorry, Doll." I don't know why, I'm just in such a good mood all of a sudden! I feel like I've been let out of the hoosegow. I feel like a want to go for a run. I never want to go for a run. "No- nobody was hurt. It was just our stuff that was destroyed. And our home. And a cat I hated anyway. But we were fine. But after that, Pops told Mom to leave, and to make sure she didn't find us, he took me away. To California."

Ricky looks down at the stone, the corners of her mouth going down "That's a sad story, Billy."

"Huh? Oh. I guess." The starts to shake under my seat. "What?" I exclaim, trying to get a crude grip on the seats. The car tilts as one side of tire leave the ground, then the others. "What the heck?"

"Woah!" Ricky exclaims, looking out the window, then "Oh! _Cat's pajamas!"_

A note a couple of things. One, that the horizon behind Ricky is in a different place than it was before. Two, that the amulet in her hand is glowing.

"How are you doing that?!" I ask.

The car suddenly drops the few inches it has risen with a _Boom!_Ricky looks at the amulet "It wasn't me. It was this thing."

I snatch it back, perhaps a little too eagerly. I rub the stone with my thumb pad. "Oh, oh, oh!" I exclaim "I think I get it! See, it doesn't just stop my powers." I squeeze it "Sometimes, I want to do something and I'm not sure I can, so I give this a squeeze," a small grin grows on my face as I do just that "and," the car rises beneath us, more steadily this time, not tipping to either side. I have been doing this longer than Ricky has. "It must be some kinda sponge! It's been absorbing my magic this whole time! And now anyone can use 'em!" I hand it back to Ricky "You can use 'em!"

She pushes my hand, with the amulet chain in it, back toward me "I don't want it, Billy. I don't need your magic."

But I insist "Come on, Ricky! Don't you wanna make this into a _flying _car?"

"It's not flight," Ricky corrects me "its levitation. And no. You need it, Billy! You just said so."

"Actually," I drop the chain on her lap and fold my hands behind my head. I recline "I feel great!" I point at the amulet "I don't think I need that thing anymore. I'm a stupid kid anymore, yanno! I know what I'm doin'!"

"Are you sure, Billy?"

"Of course I am! Hey Ricky, I got it- you're a college wise-head. Why doncha do some kinda experiment? Find out just how much you can do with that that thing. I mean, is it just floating and fire, or can ya make multi-bears?"

"What do you expect me to do, Billy, hunt down a bunch of bears so I can try?"

"Sure! Great idea, Ricky!"

She chuckles, taken by surprise "I don't what's gotten into you, but your good mood sure is contagious!" She picks up the amulet and rubs her chin, studying it "Well," she says "if you really want me to try, I'll see what I can do in my spare time. Don't be disappointed if I don't make headway though, Billy- they keep me really busy at school. And I don't think I'll be publishing any papers about the practical effects of magic- they'll ban me from campus!" She looks into my eyes "You are sure about this, right Billy?"

"I told ya! I feel great!"


	10. Ten: One Two Timing Deer

I do NOT feel great!

I didn't sleep much last night. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I know it's whacky, and I checked behind the doors of the shed several times, and even search the rafters. There's not a lot of places a person can hide in here. I tell myself I'm wrong- that I'm acting like some kind of cuckoo bird.

Somehow I finally talk my mind into calming down and subsequently get a good uninterrupted five hours of sleep, but I awake from this with a jolt. I hear the song of wintering birds (the dumbest of the dumb. You _have _wings, why don't you _use _then to get out!?), and the sunlight blazes under the crack of the door.

That wall is back. I pushes up against my back, propelling me forward. I can hear a sort of ringing in my ears. There's no way I can go back to sleep now! I have all the energy in the world. But believe it or not, that's not a good thing!

"I'm gonna explode!" I shout. With a "Mah!" Gompers startles awake, blinks, and leers at me.

I excuse myself, run across the lawn, still in my PJs, and burst through Gus's front door.

* * *

Gus was swimming in Lake Gravity Falls, pushing his body ever deeper with his arms and legs. Strangely enough, his lungs didn't hunger for air. In fact, he could feel himself breathing deeply, in and out. Somehow, he had discovered the trick of breathing under water. Well this was just fantastic! Wait until he told people!

A shadow went between himself and the sun. Looking up, he saw a large creature- a giant serpent with large fangs and yellow eyes. "Wow," he breathed "the Lake Gravity Falls Serpent! You're _real!"_

The Lake Gravity Falls Serpent opened its mouth.

"Hey! Gus!"

The LGFS sure did sound a lot like his friend Billy.

"Gus-gus-gus-gus-gus-GUS!"

The serpent faded away into the colors of Gus's bedroom. Gus groaned. Okay. He was awake.

"_ANGUS_!"

The question was, what was Billy doing in his house at this hour?"

The boy jumped out of bed and, still in his pajamas, ran down the stairs. He found the older teen in his living room, staring at the wallpaper. "Billy, what the heck?" Gus yelled, stomping on the ground between them "I know my Dad said you're welcome to have meals with us, but that doesn't mean you can just invite yourself in whenever you want and start yelling like…a…"

Gus noticed the thing Billy was staring at. The wallpaper had changed. There had once been a rather dull repeating motif of green pine trees. Now the wallpaper had pine trees on it, but they had been joined by other icons which seemed more or less random. A star with an eye in it. A question mark. A pair of glasses. But that wasn't the most insane thing about Gus's new wallpaper. All the symbols were _moving, _and interacting with each other. A llama was riding a rainbow shooting star over a forest of blue pine trees. A fish nomming dots suddenly dawned a pair of glasses.

"_Waaaaat," _Gus gasped, drawing back. His eyes went to Billy who, of course, once again, was the source of his problem.

"Billy! Why is my wallpaper like this!" Gus yelled.

Billy turned on a heel. His eyes were wide and his manic smile wider "I made it BETTER!" He shouted. Then he gasped and looked at something behind Gus. He pointed a finger and something glowing and red shot out of it. Gus squeaked as the thing shot past his shoulder. Then he heard a growl that was unlike any animal he knew of.

He turned around. His dad's loveseat had developed a pair of red eyes and a wide, toothy mouth on one side. It leered at Gus hungrily, and a blue tongue licked its lips.

Gus backed up, right into his older friend. Realizing who it was, the fair-haired boy turned on him and grabbed his shoulders roughly "Why, Billy? Why are you doing this?!"

Billy's manic grin deflated a little. Unblinking, he said "I'm sorry, Gus. But I HAVE to do something! The magic just needs to come out!"

The loveseat waddled toward them on splindly legs, making throaty growling sounds.

"Can't you _do something _somewhere other than my home?!"

"Gus!" He heard his father's deep voice from above "Billy- is that you?! You boys better not be fighting in my house!"

They could hear his heavy footfalls from up above. "See what I mean? If he sees all, this, he'll kill you!" Gus shrieked as the loveseat started to nimble on his pajama pant leg. "Bad! Bad couch! Go lay down! _Billy!" _He cried, turning back to his friend.

Billy blinked a couple of times, then spread his arms in a dramatic gesture. The wallpaper became static evergreens again and, more importantly, the couch stopped trying to eat Gus- though it was now in a different part of the room. Billy had ended just in time, too, because Gus's father appeared on the top stair. "If you two are fighting, take it outside!"

Gus was about to assure his father that everything was just fine, but he caught a look at Billy's face. His friend looked pale, and his brow was drenched with sweat. His pupils are tiny dots.

Gus grabbed Billy's arm "Come on you asshole! Let's finish this like men!" He dragged out the door then around the house, to the backyard.

"Hey! Who moved my couch?!" His dad's yell followed them out the door.

* * *

"Billy, I wish you'd stop doing that. _You're_ the one who's always so worried about being discovered! We're in broad daylight, Billy, someone's bound to notice _that!"_

He's talking about the cans. Actually, he's talking about what I'm doing with the cans. I have just sealed them all- convincing the parts of the cans that had been separated by the blade of a can opener to overcome their feud and become whole once more. Now, I'm stacking them into a triangular shape then scattering them then stacking them again. Gus is just upset because I'm doing this with my magic.

"I told ya, Gus- I can't stop!" My eyes stare into space. The exercise with the cans at least separates me from the wall of energy a little bit.

Gus paces "I'm really worried about you. Are you sick? Did you get my Squirrel Flu? Maybe _this _is how it effects you."

I make a pained face "I had somma the tonic. I _distinctly _remember that. So that _can't_ be it." The barking of a dog alerts me to the fact that we are no longer alone. Because Gus's backyard is on the corner of Main Street, it's not very private. Across the next yard, I can see Sheriff Blubs in his bathrobe, across Main Street. His little Scottish Terrier is pulling on the lead, yipping across the space with his teeth bared. The sheriff pulls back at the dog's chain "I'm sorry boys, I just don't know what got into him!"

I don't answer, instead tucking my hands into my pits and grinding my teeth. I stare into the ground as if there's a message written there. Gus calls "It's okay, Sheriff, he's probably just excited to be outside!"

Blubs grumbles "Come on, boy, just do your business like you always do!" Excruciating seconds pass while the sheriff tries to talk the terrier into going. I can feel my eyes bulging and I run my fingers into my scalp. Finally Gus whispers into my ear "Okay, he's gone!"

With a fluid motion, I channel all the pent up energy at a tree growing in the yard. The tree then ceases to be- but a perfectly round crater has taken its place.

Gus whistles "Ah, man, Billy, you need help!"

"Then help me!" I plead.

Gus's pale blue eyes just stare at me in worry "Okay, okay Billy! We just have to figure out what is causing this. Maybe it's an allergy. What did you eat yesterday?"

I blink "Just your Dad's food. You think I'm allergic to home cooking?"

He shrugs "Maybe? I guess you'll have to can back to the canned food diet."

I grab a hold of the fabric on is upper arms "_How will that help me right now?!" _

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" Gus says, pushing me away, "Hey what's wrong with my shirt?" His pajama top has certainly taken on a different appearance. It's of an entirely courser material that is, none the less, woven it itself. Light blue has given why to browns, reds and fatty yellows. Little pieces break off as Gus moves.

"Why did you turn my shirt into a bacon shirt?!"

"You got me thinking about food!"

"Change it back! It _itches!"_

I point my finger. Gus yelps as a bolt of visible red energy comes out of it, but I do _him _no harm. In seconds, the bacon shirt is a comfortable silk pajama top again. "_Better?"_ I growl.

"Look, Billy, _look!" _He puts his hands on my temples to steady my head "You have to think, Billy, you have to _think!_ Did you do _anything _out of the ordinary yesterday?"

I shake my head "I did not! All I did was climb a mountain and talk to Ricky and-" I smack my forehead with my palm "Duh! That's it! The amulet!"

"What amu-laaaah!" He exclaims, because suddenly I've transported both of us into the Northwest house. We're in the parlor where once Gus, Ricky and I sat once down to sew like a bunch of old ladies.

I run up the stairs and hesitate on the top landing. Truth is I have not been in Ricky's house much and never went into her bedroom. I move quickly, opening doors and peaking into them. Here's a bedroom, but I can somehow tell by sports memorabilia that it belongs to Yukon. This one is a study- not what I want. Gus has just joined me on the upstairs landing. He's breathing heavily. "You mind _warning _me next time you do that?" Then "Billy, what are we _doing _here?!"

"Aha!" This bedroom is just plain more girly- it features frilly lampshades, a hand stitched quilt on the bed, flowery wallpaper. Her schoolbooks are also left open on the desk. I scurry in and start moving through the room furiously. "Let's see. The amulet is a piece of jewelry. So she'd probably put it in the jewelry box! Find that jewelry box, Gus!"

"Are you out of your mind, Billy?! You can't just steal Ricky's stuff!"

"It ain't hers!" I then, briefly tell him how I gave her my amulet the day before "I'm like this because I don't have it! I guess I really do need do it!" I am currently searching her closet, throwing shoes and hot boxes and garments around with my mind "Where is that stupid thing?!"

"I found her jewelry box!" Gus exclaims from across the room.

I rush over to join him. Gus has put the box on the bed. It's a celluloid box, painted light, mint green with an image of a deer on it. Gus pops the box open. I levitate all the pieces of jewelry out to study them. There are earrings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches. There are yellow stones, red stones, diamonds and pearls. But as for turquoise, there is none to be found.

"WHAT?!" I exclaim, weeding through the floating jewelry again.

Gus grabs my arm "We'll find it, Billy! She probably put it somewhere else. Maybe she never took it out of her pocket. Do you remember what coat she was wearing yesterday?"

"Ugh—the black velvet coat! With the chinchilla! Yeah!" I once again go to the closet. Chucking, pieces of clothing out. "The coat's not here!" I exclaim.

"Ok, okay! She probably has it. She likes to wear that coat." Gus sounds remarkably calm. He's doing it for my sake. "But she could have taken it out of her pocket but put it somewhere else. Check the desk drawers, under the bed, the other pockets, everything."

Fifteen minutes of furious searching later yield nothing. "Curse me! I never should have been so confident!" I say through my teeth.

I'm gripping on to her quilt with iron hands, ringing it. It's slowly transforming into a python, but Gus yells at me "Billy! Cut that out!"

"Huh?"

"Alright, Billy, I get it. I get that you need to get the magic out. But do you think Ricky _wants _you to turn her bedding into a man-eating-snake? No!" He steadies me with an arm "If you have to use your magic, do something constructive with it."

"_Like what!"_ I growl through my teeth.

"Clean up this room." He says, with a grand gesture. I nod. It is kinda a mess in here, and that fact is kinda my fault.

So I go about putting everything back in the proper place, or so far as I remember them. It relieves the pressure on me a little, but not much. But in any case, the task allows me to put my mind to other things than this unceasing force pushing up against me. "I bet it's with her. Obviously she's not here. I don't think anyone else is, either, because someone would have heard us. But where did she go?"

Gus sighs "I don't know. _I'm _not her boyfriend." I roll my eyes. I can't believe how petty Gus can be sometimes. Really- that has nothing to do with anything right now. He goes on "I do know that none of their cars are here. Are you done, Billy?"

I nod.

"Good. Change the wallpaper back."

I sigh, snap my fingers and give Ricky back her boring old not-moving wallpaper. "Thanks Billy," Gus goes on, calmly. "Now we'll just check around town. We're bound to find her. Come on, we can let out the back- ahhhhh!"

* * *

Gus cried out in surprise and shock.

"Calm down, Gus! We're just at Lookout Point!"

_Calm down. _Calm down. Ironic words Billy was using, when the older teen was barely calm enough to think logically. Billy's stress was stressing Gus out. Obviously. When you have a friend who can cause your furniture to become deadly just by looking the wrong way, that's _pretty freaking stressful._

Gus had no choice but to help him. For one thing, Billy _was_ his friend. Yeah, he had an awful sense of humor and tormented and embarrassed Gus on a regular basis, but Billy _was_ a good person anyway. Or so Gus believed. Even if he wasn't, _Gus _was. So yeah- of course the fair haired boy was going to try to help his friend from California.

Besides, he didn't want to think what damage Billy would cause if Gus _wasn't _there to talk some sense into him.

Gus let air out through his mouth. Indeed, Lookout Point was where they were. The tall pine trees rose above them, and the vista of the town spread before them. They were plop in the middle of the dirt parking area which was, at the moment, empty.

"Billy, I asked you to _warn _me." Gus said evenly.

"Oops." The magician ran his hair through his scalp, then shouted "She's not here! Gus, I'm warning ya!"

"Wait-wait-wait! Billy! Don-"

Flash! Gus now had to get used to new surroundings. He saw the white wooden shingles and the golden stained glass of the church on one side, a line of trees on the other. In the time it took for Gus to get his bearings, Billy had run out into the street and was shouting "Ricky! RICKY! America Northwest!"

It was early in the morning- like around sevenish- so there were people around to see his antics. Mostly just people moving walking out of their homes and the postman who looked at him sideways. On top of one of the buildings a group of ravens suddenly ruffled their feathers and swooped toward him. Billy raised a finger just as Gus got to him and grabbed his wrist.

"I don't know what you were planning to do to those birds, Billy," Gus hissed in his ear "but you might want to hold off while the postman is looking!"

Billy noticed the postman and nodded. "G-good idea." He said, just as the ravens were upon them. Perhaps because the two boys were standing so close each other, the ravens were not so discriminating this time and went about attacking both of them. Waving their arms, at the pecking birds, the two boys ran back to the space behind the church, where Billy shouted "Warning!" and teleported them again.

This time he took them to the treed area behind the grocery store. He took the ravens along with them. Said birds continued to fight viciously, until Billy gestured and a wave of magic went over them. The birds were now making highly different sounds. They looked different too. Gus started at the unusual creatures with human skull faces and bat wings. The skull-bats then went to a tree and roosted.

When Gus turned around, Billy was gone. Oh great- where had he gone to? The fair haired boy ran around the side of the building onto Gopher Road, and just in time to see Billy sliding out of the front door of the grocery "There you are, Gus! She ain't here!" He grabbed the younger teen's arm and pulled him into a alleyway between buildings. So at least Billy was making some effort not to get noticed.

"Warni-"

"Do we have to teleport this time?"

"Gus, if we don't, I'll just do something _worse!"_

Gus nodded "I'm ready."

Another flash. They were now at the Lake Gravity Falls Public Boat Launch. No one was nearby, but there were a couple of ice shanties far out on the frozen lake. White smoke rose from their chimneys, which meant the fishermen were engaged in their activity. Ice shanties had no windows, luckily enough, so no one saw or heard Billy on the shore running about calling Ricky's name.

But it wasn't long before he gave up looking here, too. "Where can she possibly _be?"_

"Maybe she left town for the day?"

Billy sat himself down on a boulder peaking out of the snow "Now what?"

Gus took a hold of Billy's hand and helped him to his feet- mostly because the boulder was growing eyes and mouths. "First of all, why don't you focus your magic on giving us some clothes that are a little warmer?"

Billy looked down, surprised, to see that they were both decked out into their threadbare pajamas. "How did I not notice that…" he asked the wind.

"I don't know. You're the one who's always beefing about the cold."

Billy snapped his fingers, with a sweeping arm gesture, and suddenly the pajamas became something of Billy's creation- both were now donning top hats, bow ties, black gloves, black boots and just about the ugliest yellow tweed jackets Gus had ever seen. "Okay, that's a start…" the fair haired boy said, pulling at his new sleeve, then he looked back at Billy "Second, if you can't find Ricky, and you can't stop doing this magic thing, so maybe you should go somewhere isolated where your magic won't do harm."

Billy nodded "So you're exiling me, huh? Alright, maybe the woods behind the cemetery…"

Gus shook his head "If you upset the gnomes, they might declare war on Gravity Falls." He was being serious. He pointed across the ice to a green lump rising out of it before the cliffs on the other side. "How about Scuttlebutt Island? No one goes out there- there's nothing but a bunch of beavers."

Billy chuckled "You just said Butt Island!"

Gus just gave an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, fine, _yeesh," _another flash. Scuttlebutt Island was just like the forest on the mainland, just confined to an island. Billy's eyes were darting back and forth in his skull, his mouth partially open in a pained grimace. The kids did not get a moment to rest before something brown and hairy had attached itself to Billy's leg. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" the body shouted, kicking.

"Hey, cut that out!" He grabbed the small animal, unattaching it from his limb, and held it at arm's length. It was small and brown and had large teeth and a large, flat tail.

"Now, remember, Billy- positive magic!" Gus said, petting him on the arm.

"I'm _positive _some beaver tail soup would be delicious right now!" The beaver was still trying to snap at Billy with its incisors while making useless scratches at his arms.

"Oh come on-" Gus reasoned calmly "it's just a stupid animal! It doesn't know better! It doesn't deserve to die!"

Billy cast Gus a _You gotta be kidding me_- look before his face twisted in pain "Never mind- I need to do Multi-Bear Magic!"

"Multi-Bear Magic? What the heck is-"

"_Gus!_ Just tell me what I should turn this beaver into!"

Gus could see his friend was straining, and that if didn't do something soon, the mammal would probably die in some gory way. "Ahhhmmm, what about a monster?"

"Yeah? What kinda monster?!"

Gus was having difficulty thinking on his feet, so he used his dream for reference "A lake monster! A serpent! With long fangs, and an underbite that's like fangs too! And frills, and whiskers like a catfish, big paddles for fins- woah!" He moved out of the way as something started to take up the space on the beach. The beaver just sort of started exploding out as Gus had gotten underway with his description, until Billy could no longer hold it in his hands. It grew, and grew, and _grew. _It's fur fell off, but blue scales pushed through from beneath, and it's tail narrowed and lengthened, as well as its muzzle, filling with the teeth Gus had described.

Gus knew he had made a mistake right away. The beaver, er, serpent towered over them, almost tree height. "So, now we have a giant monster that wants to kill you. And this helps how?" Gus asked.

Billy just laughed though "Ahahaha! She won't kill me. She's _my _creation now- her will is my own!" He smiled maniacally.

And indeed, after blinking its white eyes, the animal turned away from them and flopped over to the shore. It bashed its head against the ice until there was a hole big enough for its body to go into, then it slipped on in.

"Does that hurt it?" Gus asked.

Billy shrugged "I don't care."

Even though he knew his friend had just created the beast under the influence of some kind of magical overcharge, the creature still looked majestic- like a creature from another time. "The Lake Gravity Falls Serpent!" Gus exclaimed "If she wasn't real before- she is now! But she needs a name. I know! Lake Gravity Falls- Lagrafa! That's pretty, isn't it?"

"Gobblewonker." Billy said.

"Erm, gesundheit?" Gus replied.

Billy shrugged "It looks like a gobblewonker to me, but you can call it whatever you want." He sighed on a tree "That's much better." He said.

"Oh?" Asked Gus "So you're feeling feeling better, is what you're saying? Gosh, Billy, do you think making Lagrafa just cured you?"

Billy got a thoughtful look on his face, then shook his head, manic fear again in his eyes "No! I need my amulet!" He looked his hands "It's only a matter of time before I'm at it again!"

Gus nodded "Then I guess I should go back to the shore."

"What?!" Billy asked, sounding surprised, even betrayed. "You're gonna leave me alone?!" The face he had was so surprised and distraught that Gus was stupefied for a few moments. It wasn't that Billy was questioning him; it was that Billy was letting Gus see his fear. Basically, Billy was a performer, and his entire life was the production. He didn't even like it to be pointed out that there was something in the world he didn't already know about, and it was rare for Gus to catch him expressing fear or sadness. It really showed how much this thing with the amulet was affecting him that he had dropped that particular wall, at least for the time being.

Gus cleared his throat "Well, I think it would be best, yes. Otherwise, how will Ricky know you need the amulet back, or where to find us? It would probably be better if you zap me over to the shore, but I can walk the ice. It will take longer is all."

Billy blinked "I uh- yeah! Of course! That's really uh, smart." He cast him one more sad, confused look before there was a flash and, once again, Gus was somewhere else. This time, Billy was not with him.

* * *

Ok. So I'm alone now. I basically have this whole island to myself, so I can do anything I want. Strike that. Anything I need to do. It's not like I _want_ to be zapping everything like I'm some kind of trigger happy idiot!

Its mostly trees rights now. This one becomes a giant stripety piece of candy. I think you call that a candy cane. This one becomes a streetlamp, and this one becomes giant pencil. I appear to be creating my own twisted Narnia. It's not beautiful- not even by my weird standards.

It's a little annoying, actually. I've always had difficulty transforming things or- as I've been calling it lately, doing "Multi-Bear Magic". I had no idea that it was so easy for me to do, if _only _I didn't have my amulet! Yeah- easy is a nice way of putting it. This, in my opinion, is worse than the other option. I have the barest amount of control! I am basically a puppet being flung around.

_Focus, Billy, focus!_ I have to listen to what Gus suggested. Don't just do whatever random magic comes to mind. Channel the energy. Have it _mean _something. Giving us warmer clothes had been a good idea. And stylish, if I do say so myself. But that's besides the point. If I gotta do _something, _I've got to do some _good. _So I focus on cleaning my mess as I go along- transforming all the tree-height, non-trees back into trees. Gus tells me people don't come out here often, but when they do, then a forty foot tall candy cane is going to raise some questions.

This works, until my magic starts coming out in bursts _before _I can shape it a certain way. Like the tree in Gus's yard, a number of pines burst in the middle as red bolts of energy collide into them. The lucky ones break and fall on one another, of others, there's nothing left but lonely stumps. I'm still able to catch a spell here there, but more and more often the magic just sort of _explodes _out. The earth is harmed, creating craters. Rocks and grasses cease to be. Crusty snow melts into puddles. "STOP IT!" I yell at my gloved hands, panicking. Frik! It's getting _worse!_

At this rate, I'll _sink _the island, and me with it! Where is Gus, anyway? I need that kid! I'm very tempted, for a good fifteen seconds, to teleport myself back to town. But as I'm considering it, fry a bird flying in the air, and I decide that being away from people is the best thing for me right now. At least no one else is here.

No one else is here, right?!

I walk. My hands are dug into my pits, my teeth are grating against each other, my face is drenched in sweat. I just…have to…find…some way…to stop! Maybe something on the island will-

A twig breaks. I turn suddenly and point by hands like they're guns. Well, they kind of are- right now. A shrub growing on a glacier rock explodes spectacularly, sending bets of stone my way. When the rubbish clears, there is an empty patch in the forest in front of me. A scar. My hands hang to my side and my eyes stare. The empty patch has but one thing in it: a deer.

That is to say, a doe. My arms start to tingle and I know another attack is coming on, but I have a few seconds. How long until the doe attacks me, I wonder? At this point, I don't even bother to get into a defensive position. I know I can make short work of this deer without even trying.

The deer doesn't attack. Instead, walks up to me, calmly, confident. My hands clench and un-clench, nervously, and sparks jump from finger to finger. The deer walks right up to me. The usually tall deer looks into my eyes. It's a little unnerving, until I notice.

"C-c-coin sl-slot eyes!" I gasp. It's true. The deer has dark brown eyes that look black from a distance, but up close one can see their color. Also up close you can see how the pupils are different from the eyes, and the shape is long and vertical with squared corners. Like Gompers!

The deer turns around rather daintily and begins the way she came. She takes a few steps, turns her head, then flashes her white tail.

"Y-y-you want ta fol-follow?"

By way on answer, the deer continues to walk.

This is weird. This is totally weird. But what else am I gonna do? But first? BOOM! There goes another tree. The deer must be unusually brave, because it doesn't even startle at the explosion. Well, of course this deer is alright! I mean, she's one of those swell animals that doesn't _hate _me. Pretty smart too, in my not-so-humble opinion!

I tuck my hands back under my pits. The deer leads me down a twisting path that goes between trees, and over a ridge, up to a ring of ghostly white trees, where the deer stops suddenly and looks at me with those unreadable eyes. The trees are birches. I walk up to the ring of birch trees, but don't step into them. I remember this story that, if you ever found a ring of mushrooms growing in the woods, never step into them, because you'd be a poor sap who'd be cursed to dance for the rest of his living life. After somma the things I've seen in this town, I'm not going to write _anything _off as mere fantasy.

I turn to the deer. "Whaddya want?" I ask.

She nudges my arm. Her nose is wet and cold. "Okay…f-fine." I get one hand out and put it to white bark of the birch tree.

"AAAAUUGGGGGH!" I pull away suddenly, but the pain does not stop. In fact, it only gets worse. The pain shoots from the hand which touched the tree up my arms, into my chest and neck and face. I put my hands on said face, trying to quell the pain, but nothing helps. My clothes. My clothes are glowing! But that's the least of my worries.

"WZR WLPHU!" I shout at the deer and, which a gesture of separating my hands, remove her skeletal system from her body. It's not a pretty sight as blood the flesh tears, letting the skeleton through, with a great deal of blood and other various gore, some of which splatters my mind-made suit. But even this violence to a forest animal does not ease my pain, and break into a mad run toward the nearest shore.


	11. Eleven: Letters in the Ice

A neighbor of theirs, Farmer Pepperon, owned a sleigh. It was painted red and, every year, sometime in the week before Christmas, the farmer would attach bells to his sleigh and a white mare leading it, and deck himself out in a red suit. He'd drive the sleigh from a path in the woods, onto the frozen lake, then to the Lake Gravity Falls Public Boat Launch, into town and up Main Street. Once arriving in town square, Farmer Pepperon would bestow the little kids with simple toys he had carved out of wood. It was a beloved holiday tradition.

Pepperon was generous man, but not to Ricky and Gus. The two teens had made a mistake, and that mistake was being friends with Billy Mischief. For Farmer Pepperon had been the very same rotund gentleman that Billy had set on fire and humiliated all those months before. That day, Gus and Ricky saw the power of the farmer's spite. "I won't help you. If your friend got himself in trouble, it serves him right."

So as the teens walked across the ice, they cursed Pepperon's name. "I wish I had the wooden fox he carved for me when I was eight!" Ricky growled "I'd smash it to bits!"

"Damn his hand carved tops." Gus said. "Mine always tipped too early..."

Ricky nodded in agreement, but the conversation sputtered out. They walked for several seconds, hats over their ears, mittens thrust into pockets, their breaths coming out as visible puffs. The heiress sighed "We have got to convince Billy to apologize to him."

Gus snorted "Good luck with that. I don't think Billy is sorry."

"Of course he's not," Ricky said with a sigh "but it's a civility thing and, besides, it's not a good idea to live in a town this small and have an enemy." Gus had to nod at this comment.

Naturally, Ricky had been very confused when Gus had approached her on her property, babbling about wallpaper and lake serpents and bacon shirts. After getting him to slow down and take a breath, Ricky heard a coherent version of the story. Then she had sworn and thrust her hand into her coat pocket. She pulled out the amulet on a chain.

"Damn it, I he told me he outgrew the need for this!" He looked into Gus's eyes "I'm telling you- I haven't touched it since yesterday. I forgot it was there! I've been so busy- getting new books and visiting my aunt two towns away."

But the past was done, and now they were walking across the ice. Luckily the top 8th of an inch or so had melted in the days, and frozen again with snowflakes stuck in it, which made for a friction surface. They cut through the small village of ice shanties. Already some had corners plastered into the ice. Ice shanties were made cheap, as they would probably sink.

Gus walked at the island kind of diagonal until he saw the great hole in the ice created by Lagrafa. The fair haired boy pointed this out to Ricky."The last I saw him was by that hole."

"Did he make that hole?"

"No, but his monster did."

Ricky raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Gus. The boy knew he had to elaborate, so the time spent reaching the island's shore was also time spent catching Ricky up on the tale of Lagrafa's creation. Gus felt relieved knowing that Billy had shared his secret with the heiress, because the fair haired boy didn't know how he was going to explain how his friend was stuck on Scuttlebutt Island otherwise.

"He did that in the Man-Cave," Ricky replied, as they stepped onto shore "the manotaurs had a bunch of trained bears they were bullying us with. But Billy did something- something that stuck them together into this, awful, ugly creature- that could talk!" She sounded scandalized by the last part.

It was the first Gus had heard of Multi-Bear, though after she spoke those words, what Billy had said earlier that morning suddenly made sense. Gus did not find Billy where had left him, which annoyed the boy somewhat, even though he had not told Billy to wait in one place. As they walked deeper inland, however, it became clear which direction the young magician had gone. It was a little at first, but the damage to the island from Billy's random energy attacks were clear as day. The island bore craters like scars, and trees were broken in half when they were lucky. As they traveled on, more of those marks were visible. Gus started to worry.

"Ricky, you don't have to be with me. Just give me the amulet- Billy and I will come back later."

The girl raised an indignant eyebrow "A noble gesture, Gus. But where was that nobility when we were back on the mainland, or walking over the ice?"

Gus sighed "Look, the thing is, I didn't realize he'd get this bad. I mean, look at all this!" It really looked like a series of explosions had gone off on the island. "I'm worried," Gus said "Billy wouldn't hurt you on purpose, but he can't control himself right now…"

Ricky took Gus's wrist. The boy felt a thrill that he was knew as forbidden. The girl said "He's my friend too. I'm already out here. I'm not going to leave him."

"But-" Gus piped up.

"In fact, I should be the one telling you to go home." She pointed out "Unless you have some kind of invincibility to Billy Mischief's magic that I don't know about?" She teased.

Gus laughed "'Fraid not," he said "he's the one who put me in these stupid clothes!" The boy gestured to his torso.

Ricky giggled, "I wasn't going to say anything, but you _do_ look like an overripe banana."

Gus's smile faded, because he remembered how lost and afraid Billy had looked when he had last seen him, wearing an outfit identical to this. They came to a place where the path of destruction actually split. In one direction, the ground was charred on the path going inland, but there were more exploded trees on the path going toward one of the shores. Both disagreed about which way Billy had gone last, so they resolved to split up: Gus took the inland path and Ricky went toward the shore.

A footpath took Gus a winding way around the thick trunks of very old pines, and over a ridge. A ring of white birch trees came into view, and-

Gus felt ill.

There was an amazing amount of blood. Truly outstanding, really- more blood than the boy believed could be in a creature that was smaller than an elephant. It was everywhere- it was on the snow, it was on the white bark trees, it was on the low hanging pine needles, on the rocks and it had seeped into the soil. Like it had just exploded out. The blood was what stood between the two parts that Gus was looking at. On one side of the blood was a weird, hairy sack- like some kind of deflated balloon. And on other other side, a deer skeleton, fully intact.

Gus's eyes simply stared between the deerskin, the blood, and the skeleton for a while. Something in his brain was locked, and he could not right away come to the obvious conclusion. When he did, he strangled a yell in his throat. Some creature had deboned this deer!

Some creature that was on this island with himself and Ricky. Billy too.

Unless the thing that had done this was Billy!

Gus felt ashamed of the thought as soon as he had it. Billy wouldn't do something so barbaric and cruel! It had to be a manotaur or a mountain lion of something.

But, how would a mountain lion be able to do this? To remove an animal's skeletal system all together, and in tact- it was simply impossible. No amount of strength could do something that required so much finesse!

…But magic could. It dawned on Gus that Billy was the only person or thing he knew who was able to do a thing like this.

"Gus! Come here! I found something!" The voice yelled from about a hundred feet away, unseen beyond closely packed trees.

Gus was only too happy to leave the sight of the deer. So eager was he that he burst out into a run, in a beeline, pretty much in the direction of Ricky's voice. Luckily, it was winter, which meant that all the thick and prickly ground bushes were dead. He ran until he saw her feminine black shape through the trees, then put on more speed. Finally he entered the clearing Ricky was in and stopped, panting.

She turned to him "You alright?"

Gus looked up. He could tell her. He could tell her all about the carnage in the forest and his doubts about Billy. She might get mad at first. She might call him a liar. But she would demand proof, and then Gus would give it to her. He would show her what Billy had done- what butchery he was capable of. And then she would see. Then she would rethink ever making Billy her boyfriend.

"Gus?" Ricky asked.

But it wasn't something Gus could do. Yeah, Ricky deserved a lot better than Billy. But right now, she liked the know-it-all magician. Whether she loved him Gus doubted, but she did believe in him and she held him in high regard. A part of Gus wanted to separate his two friends, and yet he didn't want to hurt them. Especially not Ricky. Seeing the deer would just upset her too much.

Besides, it was unfair. Billy was not in his right mind at the moment- he wasn't entirely responsible for his actions.

"Just got tired running, I guess." He panted.

Ricky urged Gus to come close. "Look at this tree- someone carved a message in it."

Indeed, Ricky was right. There was a part of the trunk where the bark was stripped, leaving a column of exposed wood. In said wood was a message…though it didn't make much sense.

Li dqbrqh lv xs wkhuh…Sohdvh khos ph! L'p ehjjlqj brx, Sohdvh!

"Huh," Gus said "that's weird. I can't read it though. Lee Duckburgh..what?"

"I don't think it's in English, Gus," Ricky said, bending at the waist to inspect the message.

"Well that's definitely not French- I know that!" Gus said. Come to think of it, these didn't even look like words in any language. A lot of them didn't have vowels. "Do you think this is qwlghmian?" He asked. _"Qwlghmian?_ Am I pronouncing it right?"

"Probably not," Ricky said "about the pronunciation question," she added. She cocked her head to study the letters. "And I don't think this is qw- that language either," she said, avoiding saying that bear trap of a word. "Too vowely." She declared. After a few more seconds she said "You know, I was thinking it was a code of some sort- but you might be right. It might be Takelma, or the Chinook language or something."

Gus shrugged, and so did Ricky. Gus brought up the obvious question "So, this has nothing to do with Billy, right? A mean, an Indian probably wrote this? Like some trader?"

Ricky pressed her lips together "Actually, I wasn't thinking that. But now that you mention it, it's probably the case." She nodded "It looks pretty fresh, though. Like from today." She gave Ricky a worried look "If he's still nearby, we should find him and warn him not to go near Billy, at the very least."

Gus sighed wearily "Yeah. 'Hey Chief. We just want to warn you, if you see a skinny blond guy, go the other way. He'll probably turn you into a carrot or something.'"

"Well," Ricky said "we'll give him some kind of story he can buy." She snorted darkly "We'll lie, so that our story will make sense without magic."

Gus had found another message. He pointed this out to Ricky.

Zkb! Zkb lv wklv kdsshqlqj wr ph?! Zkdw glg L hyhu gr zurqj?!

"They sure did write a lot of exclamation points." Gus pointed out.

"Maybe it's a warning of some sort?" Ricky guessed.

"About what?" Gus asked.

Ricky didn't answer. She called Billy's name several times. She didn't receive an answer. "Let's go back inland." She suggested to Gus.

Gus shoved himself in front of her "Let's not." Ricky's eyebrows came together and Gus continued. "I checked in there pretty thoroughly. The island isn't that big." It was a lie. He just didn't want there to be a chance for Ricky to see the deer, and what Billy had done to it. Regardless of whether he was or not, it would only make Ricky think Billy was some kind of monster. Ricky didn't deserve that, and Billy probably didn't either.

Ricky crossed her arms challengingly, still unconvinced. "But where else would we look?"

Something in the frozen lake behind Ricky caught Gus's eye "There's a message in the ice, too."

Ricky looked back over her shoulder, over the cliff. Scuttlebutt Island was kind of like an inverted mirror of Lake Gravity Falls. The lake had a beach on its west shore and cliffs on all three other sides. The island also had mostly cliffs except for a beach on its west side. They were on the north side now, so they were looking over a drop-off.

The cliffs rose out of the water, so it was a clear view to the ice. Ricky and Gus saw the letters though, due to the angle, it was hard to see. They resolved, then, to go down, and at least take a look. Once on the lake, they approached the message, though it was as much gibberish as the first two.

Jrwwd jhw rii wklv lvodqg! Wkhuh'v d idfhohvv pdq iroorzlqj ph!

And when they were close enough to see it, they spotted another.

Ru lv lw rqob d krda?

"Gus, I think Billy did go this way," she pointed to a dark patch in the ice. It wasn't a patch at all, but rather a hole where one could see the black water from beneath. "Look at that. I think Billy made it."

"Or maybe an ice fisherman?"

"Gus, are you looking? It's too irregular for a fishing hole. In fact, the sides aren't even cut or cracked in any way. It looks more like someone melted it," she added "with fire."

Ricky was right. The hole itself had a kind of oblong shape, and the sides were rounded, as if melted. In fact, Gus could imagine a fireball being hurled at the ice and forming this hole.

"At least he just made a hole. I hope he doesn't get any wild ideas and tries to melt the whole lake…" Gus said.

"He can't swim. Why would he do that?" Ricky questioned. "In any case, we're on the right track."

There were more messages.

Jxv! Zkhuh duh brx?! L fdq'w pdnh lw!

Jrwwd jr ilqg klp!

Qr! Fdq'w jr edfn wr Judylwb Idoov…kxuw shrsoh…

"Okay," Gus announced "this is officially getting spooky."

The trail of messages lead to the river. Said river cut through a chasm, and was fed by a waterfall. Walking on the ice in the middle of the chasm was strange, like being in a hallway made of stone and glass.

"Do you think Billy might have made these?" Ricky spoke up.

"Why would he do that?"

"To communicate with us?"

"He's doing a bad job if that's the case." Gus pointed out.

They rounded the corner to the waterfall which was now frozen- the water seemingly paradoxically stuck in mid fall. But there was something wrong with the waterfall: there was a hole blasted through it. The two kids felt that it was safe to assume that Billy had gone through there. Upon reaching it, they saw the falls was a three foot wall, except for the part where there was a blasted hole showing the same rounded signs of being burnt as the melted ice from earlier. They also saw that the recess beyond the wall of ice was deeper than they had believed.

"Hey Gus, it looks like there's a cave back here!"

"Huh," the boy replied "I wonder if the Pines brothers know about this?"

The cave behind the falls was both deeper and darker than they had expected. It extended far- at least as big as Gus's living room. However neither teen could tell how far it went because of some oppressing darkness- as if the cave had been swathed in black funeral cloth. But something was visible from far ahead- in what the teens believed to be the middle of the cave.

Two jaws dropped.

There were lights in the cave- moving lights. Gus believed them to be some strange breed of firefly that glowed red, but they were too large, and the wrong shape. Shapes. Gus recognized some of the shapes flying. The question mark, the evergreen tree, the heart. They glowed so brightly that they looked like they were made of neon tubes. And they were revolving. Circling in a rough orbit around a singular object.

Said object was also red, also glowing, though Gus could see bits of hot white light as well. He realized he was looking at someone's back, who was lying on their side. They had their hot white hands wrapped around their head, which was pulled forward. Gus recognized the shape of the back, but Ricky acted first.

"Billy!" She breathed, jogging forward. Gus ran after to her after only a moment's hesitation.

* * *

For a while, magically making messages around me is enough. What do they say? Who cares! As long as my magic is doing something, it's at bay. Said magic has to concentrate on getting every word right. But it was only barely enough. I can feel the wall of energy centimeters away from my ear even as I'm doing it.

I blast the cave. Blast the cave with words, with fire, with, well, blasts. For a while, it lights up almost as brightly as I am. Is it wise? Maybe I'll cause the whole mountain to collapse on toppa me. Dying like that has to be better than having my magic build up until I burst!

I blast a rock away. The rock ceases to exist as a rock, though a fresh cloud of airborne dust hangs in the air above where the rock used to be. However, something catches the blue light in the ground underneath where the rock once was. There is a hole in the stone cave floor. Not one that I made. This one is too irregular- a natural depression in the earth. There's an object in it.

Curiosity draws me. I scurry over to the hole. The object is a box- a box with golden hinges. It's locked. Then, it's broken, after a give the lock a small blast. The box pops open.

There is but one object inside: a piece of paper. A deed for some property. I groan and the groan turns into a scream. I believed that, once, for just once, things would work out in my favor. The universe would align and I'd find something that would help me in this box. I kick the box and the deed with it away, as it's not even worthy of my magic.

I'm sweating buckets, and by this point, I'm shaking. The pain from the birch trees had been nothing like I had ever experienced before. There was a kind of prickling, and a hotness, and coldness at the same time. I'm making it sound like it's kid's play and it's not. I realize: This is what burning feels like. IT HURTS! And it keeps getting worse!

The wall gets closer, closer! Millimeter by millimeter. There's no running away from it any more. It hampers me in from all sides. It's strangling me. No. It _is_ me. I'm trapped inside myself and it's unbearable. _Let me out!_

I've fallen to the floor on the base of the cave. I cradle my pounding head in my arms and curl by back into itself; fetal position. My body is shaking. Using my magic does no good now. I don't know what that deer did to me, but it's making me worse. I…need…to do…magic…I wave my hand and the air is suddenly full of strange flying creatures. Versions of the designs from the wallpaper this morning, but made out of something resembling neon, and able to move on their own. The cave darkens- I don't even know if I'm doing this or not.

I don't feel any better. The designs, I fear, are a dire portent.

I'm…I'm going to die…

Once I realize this, my eyes start to water and my face distorts into a pained grimace. " L grq'w zdqw wr glh…" I say quietly, not expecting to be heard.

"Billy!" I hear a breathy, female voice, and the sound of boots on stone. My eyes snap open.

* * *

Gus and Ricky were halfway to Billy when the magician suddenly sat up, pushing up with one of his arms. He turned his face to the two teens, who gasped and stopped in their tracks.

Billy was glowing, and not with vitality. Like his jacket, his face glowed an unnatural, bright red- more akin to flames in an oven than sunburn. His gloves, tie, and hair were a bright unnatural white. But most startling were his eyes. No longer was Gus looking at his friend with the arresting blue peepers. What he saw in front of him were two deep black caverns, each with a white point of light in them which was ringed by red. Billy didn't look like Billy; he hardly even looked human.

"Jr DZDB!" The magician cried, sweeping his arm. As he did so, and arc of red flame spread out in a wave. Gus saw that it was approaching Ricky and he grabbed her arm and ran her back to where the frozen pool met the stone floor of the cave. The fire pursued them to the ice, them sizzled at the ice's edge, melting it a little before itself dying out.

Billy was standing now, and the glowing symbols still rotated around him, but now faster and in tighter circles. His arms were straight out and to his sides, his white hands in fists. Standing up tall, face twisted in rage, his form glowing unnaturally, he looked like some kind of monster. "Grq'w brx nqrz zkdw'v jrrg iru brx!?"

Gus backed away, his breaths frequent and shallow. "He's speaking some weird devil-language! How does he even pronounce those words?" Maybe he was speaking Qwlghmian after all? Could Billy be fluent?

Ricky shook her head. She looked dumbfounded; shocked. Then light sprang into her eyes as she had an idea. She reached into her pocket and brought out the amulet on the silver chain. "Billy! I have this for you!" She said, holding it up.

Billy snarled, and a golden light escaped the hollow of his mouth. "Lw'v wrr odwh iru wkdw, Ulfnb! Qhyhu plqg!"

Gus took Ricky's hand. "Ricky, we have to get out of here."

Ricky gave Gus a shocked look "But Gus! We can't just leave now. We found him, and he needs our help!"

"But Ricky- it's dangerous! He just threw fire at you! Clearly he wants to hurt us and he doesn't want to be helped!" Gus was serious. After seeing the aftermath of the deer, wouldn't put anything past Billy. The fair haired boy didn't understand what was going on with the magician, but he wasn't in his right mind. Gus did not trust Billy not to harm them when he was crazy.

"Olvwhq wr wkh nlg, Ulfnb!" He blasted the ceiling with his energy "L'oo ghvwurb brx, dqg hyhubwklqj brx fduh derxw! Wkh ehdu khdg vdlg vr!" Then floated off the ground, one spitting red flame in each hand, still snarling at the teens below. The flying symbols had resumed their more random orbits, but even faster now.

Ricky's face twisted into a mask of anger "Alright Billy, just stop it!" She yelled and, whipping her head around "You too, Gus! We aren't leaving Billy!"

Billy cringed, made his hand into fists and the flames grew even taller and angrier. "QR!" He shouted shrilly.

"As for you," Ricky said, stomping toward him "I know that you're scary and loud, and I know you're speaking in tongues. And I know you're trying to scare me for some reason. But you're still my friend Billy in there. And I know you won't hurt me." She held the necklace in front of her face "You need this, and you're going to take it whether you like it or not!"

"Ricky!" Gus shouted. Was she out of her mind? But Billy- or whatever had possessed him- seemed to be moved by Ricky's words. Moved to start levitating backwards. His legs splayed in front of him almost comically(he didn't seem to know what to do with them when airborne), and he pressed one flat hand open in the international 'stay back!' gesture. But then he seemed to remember what he was capable of.

"Gr qrw. Frph. Dqb. Forvhu. Ru L'oo-!"

He pointed a finger at Ricky. Gus screamed and ran forward, expecting a red bolt to jump from his finger. It didn't, but the symbols surrounding him suddenly changed direction and swarmed to a place just above his shoulder. They hung in the hair, and even though they didn't have eyes, Gus could swear they were looking down at Ricky the way a cat looks down at a baby bird fallen from the nest. The symbols dived and surrounded Ricky. The girl screamed as they attacked her with their inexplicably corporal lines- stars poked her with their points, fingers pinched her, llamas bit.

"L zrq'w kxuw brx Ulfnb-" Billy said, his voice cracking "exw wkhb zloo!"

"That's enough, you bastard!" Gus said, grabbing a hold of one of Billy's levitating legs. He pulled at the floating magician with all the strength he had, and was a little surprised to find that he succeeded in bringing Billy down to earth. Billy was surprised too, as Gus forced him first on his rump and then onto his back. Straddling the older teen's chest, Gus pulled a fist back to send careening into that stupid glowing, surprised face, but Ricky called to him.

"Gus! Catch!"

The heiress was unable to move any closer due to the symbols, which had formed a moving wall in front of her, but she was able to chuck the necklace in Gus's direction. She had good aim, despite the obstacle. Gus caught the necklace, just as Billy was trying to levitate himself again. "Oh no you don't!" Gus said through gritted teeth, and slammed his palm into Billy's forehead. Between Gus's palm and the magician's head was the turquoise stone.

The man screamed in pain, and his back curved forward. At first it was a demonic "Ddddxxjjjkkk!" But it turned into a more human "Aaaauuggghhh!" Several things happened at once. The flying symbols holding Ricky flickered a couple of times, then disappeared. Light came into the cave through the waterfall. Refracted through the frozen water, the light was a bright blue color- very pleasant. The odd colors drained out of Billy's face and clothes and he was once again a blond kid in a tacky yellow jacket.

Gus moved away from the older teen but, as soon as he did it, feared he was too premature. What if Billy hadn't gone back to normal? What if he was just tricking him? He knew he couldn't let the Californian hurt Ricky. Gus got to his knees as Billy was pushing himself up with one arm. Gus studied the older boy. The magician was still shaking a little, and he was holding the amulet to his head like it was ice on a hot day. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was ragged; uneven.

"Billy?" Gus asked, quietly but firmly "Are you back?"

Lids unpeeled. Blue eyes regarded the fair haired boy.

Then Billy lunged.

Gus struggled to keep his balance as the older teen entangled him in a hug. He could feel the boy's shaking. "Thank you." Billy whispered into his shoulder.


	12. Twelve: Chateau Cipher

I have my face buried in Gus's shoulder. Something wet and shameful escapes my eyes and I cringe, trying to summon the tears back into my face, feeling stupid for shedding them. I hear Ricky's footsteps on the stone floor. She approaches the both of us and places a kind hand on my back, which does not at all help the crying situation. Gus pulls away from me- I guess feeling a little awkward. As he does so, I spring to my feet and leave the two of them right there.

To Ricky, this is apparently the epitome of rudeness "Billy, what the heck?!"

I keep walking until I reach the wall of the spacious cave. I lean one hand against it. "Is that it, Billy? You're just going to walk away? No 'thanks for coming all the way out here', no explanation for why you were trying to scare us?!"

"I have blood on me," Gus observes in surprise.

The first thing I do once my back is turned to them is to put the amulet chain back over my neck, and under my clothes, so that you can't even tell from looking at me that I wear jewelry. The amulet rests against my sternum. I've never been so glad to have it there.

After that, I focus on wiping the tears out my eyes and getting control of my silent weeping. Ricky is kneeling next to Gus now "Oh my god! Are you bleeding?!"

"No, no, I think I got it from Billy," Gus is saying.

"The kid's right," I interject, my voice steady now. I'm walking toward my two friends in the middle of the cave "it just transferred over from me." I spread my arms to let Ricky see the front of my outfit, spattered with deep red blood that's starting to turn brown.

Ricky's eyes hone in on the bloodstain in surprise. "Are you hurt?!" Her eyes search my face, probably looking for any other signs of damage or weakness.

I shake my head "I, um…"

"Found a deer in the forest." Gus interjects. For a second, his light blue eyes have a hardness to them. _So you saw. _

I nod to Ricky, and sigh "Yeah. I guess my magic did some things that were kind of, ah, messy." Ricky's eyebrows come close together in worry "Thank you guys so much for finding me! I was not in a good way. And Gus-" I put my hand on his shoulder "thank you especially! If you hadn't brought me down to earth(literally!) and knocked some sense into me(again, literally!) I don't know _what _would have happened!"

"I'm just glad it's over now," Gus says. "And besides, you and Ricky saved me once."

I grinned "So I guess us two are even- we just owe _Ricky_ now!"

"Oh, Billy!" Ricky says, getting up placing her hands on my shoulders "This is as close to a hug as you're going to get, because I don't want to get that all over me." But she goes on "You don't owe anything. I did nothing."

"Are you kidding? You were fantastic back there! You're more fearless than 90% of the guys I know!" My eyes shine "Hey! You're America the Brave!" Her cheeks turn bright red and I smile. I'd like to kiss her, but it's difficult. I sober a little. "I'm sorry I was such a jerkface."

She purses her lips. "What happened there, Billy?"

I tap my chest where my amulet is "I lost this thing." I say.

Her face becomes pained "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so-"

I put a hand out. My silk gloves brush her lips. "Cut that out." I order "I told ya to do it. It's my fault."

When she blinks, there's tears in her eyes. _ She's_ not afraid of showing them. "Still, I could have fought you harder."

"I dunno. I can be prit-ty persuasive."

"I guess we just agree that we both screwed up." She says.

"Yeah," I smirk "I'll go with that."

Ricky draws close, but then remembers the blood on me, and then sort of bobs her head around trying to get her face close to mine. She gives up and kisses my hand. He both give each other kind of tired smiles. "But Billy, what I don't understand is, why were you acting like that when we came into the cave?"

"What? Ya mean trying to get ya to scram?"

"That's one way of putting it," Gus crosses his arms and approaches. I can't help but notice that he's been kind of cold to me ever since almost punching me in the face. "I think you, and _Ricky _especially, are both forgetting that you _attacked _her." He lets the accusation hang in the air angrily. Ricky blinks and lets go of my hand. One of hers falls to her side, and the other clutches her own elbow. She looks up at me, waiting for an explanation.

I look away "I didn't _want _to hurt you."

Ricky bites her lip. I notice my hat, which is on the floor of the cave. It fell off my head sometimes before Gus and Ricky got here. I pick it up and brush it off, then place it where it's supposed to go. Behind where the hat was sitting is the broken box from earlier. I pick this up. The piece of paper is still in it. It sure is a curiosity.

Gus and Ricky are staring at me silently. I tuck the box under one arm and roughly blow out air from my lips. "Sometimes," I say "I feel like there's two sides ah me. There's one sida me that's fun, friendly, trustworthy. A gentlemen, even, if I wanna be. But there's this other side that's…" my face twitches "cruel, angry, sadistic. A monster."

Neither of them speak up. I kind of expected they would. _Billy, don't say that! You're not a monster!_ But after what they saw me doing today, I can't really blame them for agreeing.

Finally Ricky closes the space between us "_I _don't think you're a monster, Billy. You're just dealing with stuff none of us can understand."

I press my lips together. "I thought that I was going to hurt you. That's why I wanted to scare you away first." I finally say, not looking into her eyes. She presses her hand to the side of my face; a comforting gesture. But I pull away. "The symbols wouldn't have hurt her." I add, looking at Gus. "I wouldn't have let them." I say, my back turned to them. I'm resolved to make my way out of this cave "Yeah; I lied. How did ya guys get in here, anyway?"

"We walked," Gus said, as if this was obvious. "We walked all the way to the island, then here." But he added "Billy, what were those symbols, anyway? They were the same symbols you put on my wallpaper this morning."

I shrug "I dunno. They looked swell. Was it a long walk?"

"Shorter, I bet, if you don't take the detour to the island," Ricky says.

"But Billy, what about just teleporting us back?" Gus asks.

I stop just before the frozen waterfall with the big blasted hole in it. We're still in the cool blue light; still in the hidden cave. It's not that I don't want to teleport us- it's that it's not as simple as Gus makes it sound. When I had been going though the episode of magical overload, a number of spells that were usually very difficult for me were suddenly duck soup. That included teleportation. Usually, I can make small jumps- like to the other side of a room or something. I don't even know how I had the power not to mention the _bravery _to make such long jumps this morning. Gus and I could have phased into trees or something and gotten speared through!

I blow air out through my lips "Yanno, I had wanted to give my magic a break." I say.

"The Great Billy Mischief, giving magic a break?" Gus raises an eyebrow.

"_I _know," I reply, rolling my eyes "it's just that, at this moment, it makes me kinda sick just thinking about the stuff."

Gus and Ricky exchange glances "So what does this mean?" Ricky questions "Does this mean Billy Mischief, Illusionist Extraordinaire is no more?"

"Are you just going to be a normal guy from now on?" Gus asks.

Finally, I can no longer contain my laughter. "Ahahaha! You slay me guys! Nah, Billy's just on _holiday, _I'll be back to my old tricks in no time!" I catch my breath and scoff "Like I would ever do _normal!"_

Gus exhales grumpily, shakes his head, and walks on past me through the hole in the waterfall. I follow, feeling kind of slighted. What, does he _want _me to give up my powers? I watch the kid. He saved me. He _saved _me. Yeah, Ricky was there too, but Gus was the guy who put it all to an end. I'm grateful! He has no idea how grateful I am. Does he think I'm not? Is _that_ why he's so mad at me all of a sudden?

Ricky starts walking next to me. She sees my hurt, confused expression and she puts her hand in mine. "Don't let him get to you. He's probably just worried." She went on "He's been stressed ever since I first saw him today. Maybe now that he has a chance to breathe, he's finally letting his emotions out."

"Did I thank him? Maybe I forgot. No. I remember thanking him."

"Yes, you did," she assures me "just give it time, Billy."

I'm not want to drop the subject, however "I've got to make it up to the kid."

"You'll find a way. You're creative like that."

I smirk. Yeah, I will. I give her hand a squeeze and finally change the subject. "I love that you're not afraid of me- no matter what I do."

Her expression becomes thoughtful "I had fear. I didn't think you would hurt me, though. I was afraid _for_ you. And Gus." She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear "But I guess you're right." She smiles, a little line appearing in her nose "I don't have time to be afraid for myself when I've got to watch out for my two boys." She kisses my cheek. Gus, a few yards away from us, glares at us over his shoulder. Ricky sees it too and rolls her eyes "I'll talk to him later." She whispers.

Not that I'm no longer burning up inside, I'm aware of how cold it is. A lot colder than it was in the cave. Actually, I think it's just as cold, but out here there's _wind _which, I've noticed, always makes everything _feel _colder. Nice on a humid August day; not so much in the beginning of January. I pull the lapels of my jacket up to shield my face a little.

I lean in and whisper to Ricky "Ok, maybe a _little _magic," I say with a wink, trying to summon a fireball to my hand. Only useless sparks fall from my fingers. Oops. Never mind. All burnt out.

Ricky watches my hand "Is that something you should be worried about?"

"Nah," I take her hand again "just outta commission for a few hours. Not the first time." _Still a pain, though._

"What's in the box?" Ricky says, pointing to the thing under my other arm. I hand it over, being careful to keep it somewhat close to closed. Ricky pulls out the crumbling piece of paper from within.

"Where did you get this?" She asks.

"The cave. I found it." I shrug "I guess some sap hid it way back. Someone Mabel's related to."

Her face becomes stormy and I see that I kind of just broke the taboo of not talking about Mabel Trembley. I sigh, but shrug it off. Nothing I can do now. After inspecting the deed, Ricky hands it back to me. "What are you going to do with your new land?"

I inspect the deed, being very careful not to let it crumble "Pretty sure that's not my name there."

"Doesn't matter," then she gets a smirk on her face that I know too well- because it's usually _me_ who's wearing it. "Didn't you know? Gravity Falls is a GimmieOcracy."

"Oh! One of _those." _I inspect the fingertips of my gloves.

"You don't know what that is, do you?"

"Pft! Of _course_ I know what it is!" I say, interlacing my fingers behind my head.

Ricky just smiles playfully at me "Okay, Billy. You know everything, right? So tell me, what is it?"

I narrow my eyes at her and look down at her over my nose. My mouth becomes a hard, straight line. _Busted. _"Eh, you can put it into words better than I probably can."

Ricky rolls her eyes. "Basically, it means that whoever has possession of that deed owns that land."

My eyes widen "Seriously?"

Ricky nods "What can I say? Great grandfather Nathaniel was a mad genius. The Finder's Keeper's law makes land disputes so much easier to rule on. All a judge has to do is point at whoever's holding the deed at any given time and say 'it's yours'."

I chuckle "Yanno, everyone once in a while I love this town." I rub my chin with my hand, just imagining the court proceedings in this place. "What if no one's holding it at the time?"

"Then it's whoever touched it last."

"What if the judge doesn't know who touched it last?"

"Then it's whoever the judge likes better."

"Ahaha, perfect!" Then I think of something else "Okay, this! What if two guys are physically fighting over a deed, and they each grab and end, and pull, and rip it in two?"

"Then the judge gets the land."

"_Really!_ Well I sure would l like to meet whoever judges these cases here in Gravity Falls!" I'm rubbing my hands together.

"You already have," Ricky says demurely "the judge is my father."

"Ooooooooh!" Then, with another cruel grin "No wonder he's so filthy rich!"

She cast me a glare with all the ferocity of a drowned cat, and my smile spreads from ear to ear and I chuckle "Woah, looks like I hit a nerve!"

Ricky pinches the bridge of her nose "Sometimes, I honestly don't know how I put up with you."

I drape my arm over her shoulder "You're not alone, Ricky. All the masochists I hang out with wonder exactly the same thing!"

She lifts my arm offa her throws it back at me, her face red now. I walk beside her, still grinning like a goon. She is shaking her head and muttering to herself under her breath.

I take a look again at the deed. Is Ricky being for real, or is she pulling my leg? The Finder's Keeper's law! That's full blown insanity if I ever heard it! But in a place like Gravity Falls, can I really expect something less? "Hey, Ricky?" I call out to her.

Ricky answers with a wordless growl.

"Where on Gopher Road is 618 anyway?"

* * *

If you think this was all a clever ruse to get Ricky to spend time with me for one more day before leaving then you'd be right! What can I say; sometimes a magician has to play a little trick.

Ah jeez- you see right through me, don't ya? Okay, okay, you're right. I did _not _plan that- I was just stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! But it _woulda_ been a brilliant plan, and Ricky woulda been none-the-wiser. …Of course, if I hadn't worked out…I might be dead or worse right now…maybe I'll just drop the subject.

We say goodbye at the Gravity Falls Public Boat Launch, before she has to split up from me lest people see us being together. Word gets around fast in this town, and Mr. Northwest would know about by suppertime. We kiss, and I suggest she start wearing tin foil on her head to protect her brains from the brainwashing robots at school. She says she'll consider it. Isn't my girl great?

* * *

The yellow suit is swell but, let's face it- ruined by all the deer blood. I don't personally object to the _idea _of blood myself, but 99% of people are started to see it, and that weighs on my decision to throw it out. On top of that, real blood is sticky and wet, except for when it hardens, in which case it becomes crusty. Worse, I am not able to change it back into my dry pjs, or at least I'm not right now. I throw it in a pile and torch it, (though I keep the hat, gloves, and boots) and sleep in my traveling clothes that night._  
_

The next day, I'm sick as a dog. Actually, why do people say 'sick as a dog'? I don't see a lot of sick dogs, and when I do, it's like with mange or something. I don't have mange. I'm not sick as a dog. I'm sick as a person with a runny nose and a headache. It's the cold, and being out in the cold shed just makes it worse. I'm resolved to tough it out on my own, but Mr. Gleeful comes out and calls me out for being a stupid kid. "Come inside my house before you catch your death, son."

I groan and put the wool blankets on top of me and try to ignore him, but Gleeful is insistent and eventually I'm herded indoors. He sits me down forcefully on the love seat then gets me a warm quilt to wrap myself up in. Mr. Gleeful has his wood stove running in the room. I gotta admit, being in a warm house under a warm blanket _is _an improvement. He brings me some canned soup warmed on the stove. "Been out causing trouble with my son?"

I don't want to think of the quote-un-quote adventure of the day before. I spoon some soup into my mouth, finding it pleasantly hot. "That's us- hitting the town and destroying things." He has no idea how ironic the sentence is, and he thinks it's a joke. He sits down on the seat across from me with some warm thing in a bowl.

"It's good- he needs to get in a little trouble at his age, and away from the house."

I chuckled "Gus would say I'm enough trouble for ten Guses."

"A little mischief doesn't hurt any kid." Gleeful asserts, then realizes what I said. Somewhere in a sea of beard, two pale eyes light up "Hey!"

I laugh at his joke. "Guess that's my specialty!" Ok, this is weird. Why is Mr. Gleeful being nice to me? Why is he talking to me like I'm a family friend or something?

"When I was his age, I was shooting and skinning my first bear." Mr. Gleeful goes on, with a wistful look in his eye. He hakes him head and his beard goes with him "Kids are too soft these days. Oh, I suppose I'm partly to blame. When his mother passed, I just wanted my son to be happy. And all he wanted to play with his mother's old clothes, so I let him." He sighs "Do you suppose I made him funny?"

I blink "Funny? In what way?"

"You know," Gleeful says gruffly "_funny."_

I think about the question "In the humor department, he's kind of lacking." I admit. "He's a high strung kid, yanno? Could benefit from taking it easy every once in a while."

Mr. Gleeful just sort of clears his throat gruffly "I sometimes wonder if he's been taking it _too _easy..."

Gus, waking up late, comes downstairs and notices me on the couch. "What is _Billy _doing here?"

"Your friend got a head cold. It would _hurt_ you to be polite."

Gus rolls his eyes and picks up his coat from the hanger "I'm going to take a walk." He steps out, slamming the door behind him before Mr. Gleeful can think of a reply. The bearded man glares after the closed door, then rolls his eyes "Teenagers."

I spend the rest of the day curled up on the coach blowing my nose and clearing my throat. I hate having a cold, but having Mr. Gleeful there (his first name is Fuller, by the way) for conversation makes the day go by. It's so weird. The first time I met this guy he was pushing a gun in my face. For four months he'd kept an eye on me like I might glaum something. Now he's inviting me to breakfast and letting me use his couch as a sick bed like I'm family. I consider this, and realize the moment he started being nice to be was the day after I got back from going with the others to get the nectar from the gnomes. Gus had been on death's door during that time. Did Fuller, in some weird, doddering way, think that I had saved Gus's life?

The truth couldn't be any further from the mark, but it wasn't like I could tell Mr. Gleeful that!

* * *

March is a good month for me. Tourists are filtering back into Gravity Falls. Clubb's other acts have left for greener pastures(something I probably would have done, if I had motivation) and I'm suddenly performing five nights a week. The Billy Mischief Carnival of Wonders is back in business(ok, so it's not a carnival in any sense, but my audience doesn't seem to mind the wording), and boy, did that winter give me some good ideas for tricks!

For instance, now my fire comes in all colors of the rainbow. The audience likes my multicolored pyrotechnics. I also cast more illusions this spring, such as making the floor under their feet appear to disappear and get replaced by a gaping cavern. The people scurry about like ants for a while, _actually _believing that they're falling, until they realize the floor is as solid as ever.

My stage tricks don't _really _reflect all I know I can do. The rules to my magic seem to be thus: Fire, illusions(which is just a more controlled form of fire anyway), levitation and small teleports only only, unless there are extenuating circumstances. Extenuating circumstances are either a time when I don't have my amulet(and believe you me- I'm not taking that thing off any time soon!) and times when my life is in danger. Naturally, the second scenario is kind of difficult to create, so it's back to those three right now.

My show is a hit just about every night, and the audience is a little bigger every consecutive night. Finally, my birthday falls in March. I celebrate the 26th of March by breaking ground on Chateau Cipher- the pet name for what I've finally decided to do with my new property. Earlier in the year, I popped into town hall and read up on the laws and found that, indeed, the Finder's Keeper's law was a real thing and 618 Gopher Road was all mine.

618 Gopher Road is actually Cemetery Lane, and Cemetery Lane is actually not a road at all, but this long driveway leading to the back of the cemetery. People just call it Cemetery Lane because…Fallers are annoying and they like to mess with out-of-towners' heads. Or something like that.

I figure I'll build a big place, then rent it out to businesses for storage and what have you. Maybe it will become a newspaper, or a casino, or a brothel! Oh, and I'll live there, of course. But mostly I intend to make money. I'm a little fed up with being chronically broke.

And my brokeness means the project goes slowly. I have plenty of my main building resource- wood. Wood is all around me. It surrounds me. I have more wood than I can ever hope to dream off. If wood was gold, I'd never worry about money again. I'm DROWNING in wood. What I need are tools, and other supplies- plumbing, nails, tiles, glass, what have you!

Okay, so I lied. There's something else I've got to spare- rocks. I find tons and tons of rocks(literally) after I start digging a foundation for the Cipher Chateau. I set the rocks aside. I'm sure I can find use for them later.

And there's something else I find when I dig deep enough. It's a-

Actually, yanno what?

Some secrets should stay that way.

* * *

I have discarded the pyramid idea. Pyramids are swell, but I'm more fond of two-dimensional objects. Of course, people can't exist in two-dimensional space, so I comprise and go for a triangular prism. Fuller also informs me that this is called an A-Frame house. I might add some other parts later, but the triangular prism will be the main body of the place.

The other thing slowing me down is Fuller Gleeful's insistence on helping me when he's at home for a few days. I'd like to tell him to scram, but then I remember _why _he suddenly likes me and, damn it, turns out I _am_ capable of feeling guilty! So he's pretty much welcome whenever he invites himself over. It makes things slower because I'm not using my magic when he's around. Dunno why- I've already revealed myself to half the town it seems! But I have no idea how Mr. Gleeful will react, so I don't. Which means actually holding a hammer in my hands. Which means cracked and dirtied nails after a while. Grr.

The one good thing about having Fuller's help is that he has a skill that I never learned from working with him: making stain glass windows. He has friends at the glass factory, some towns out, and he's willing to make more, for a price. At first I'm hesitant, because stain glass windows make me think of church and churches make me uncomfortable. But he makes me a pane and I do like it. I bet Ricky would like it to.

Pretty soon I'm updating my floor plan, designating what kind of glass will go in each window. "For this one…how about a design like this?" I say, scrawling something out on paper and handing it to the fella. Fuller makes a face.

"I think you've already repeated this triangle motif enough. Why not other shapes? You know, diamonds, squares?" His beard crumples in humor.

"I suppose we can put _some _of those in there…" I snap my fingers "Have the guys make it red! Bright, blood red!"

"That'll cost ya."

"True art has no pricetag, Gleeful!" I'm saying this because I actually have a disposable income now, after so many months of dryness. I'm kind of not used to it. I may be a little hasty to have my money taken away.

And thus spring in Gravity Falls passes for me, building by day and performing at night. Essentially, it's the same as the way I spent fall here, but different. Better. My show is hit. My new home/business venture is coming together. My life is just…kind of what I want it to be all of a sudden. Almost. I wonder what Ricky will think of this place when she sees it. We can use it as a getaway of sorts from her pops. I'm sure it can have other uses as well.

I kind of have this re-occuring fantasy that Ricky's going to move in with me. This despite the fact that, pretty much since I've known her, her ambition has been to get away from this town. But for this reason, I get kind of obsessive about making every little thing perfect at the Chateau. I mean, what if I can give her her dream home? Maybe she doesn't want to live in her mansion any more. Maybe she wants to live rustically. Hey- it's possible! What if I can make her want to stay with me?

I've actually moved to the address. I'm still welcome to eat at the Gleeful's for dinner, and I take this offer up because, _hello!_ Free food.

I'm staying in a little pup tent erected at the corner of the construction site. It's no worse than the drafty shed, except for when it rains. I still have this mosquito problem. I swear they bit me so much that I have words up and down my arm. On one, **DIB **and on another **OEMON. **If that means anything.

Gompers has followed me. No, seriously, he wandered over on is own free will. I think the goat likes me. Or maybe he likes that I still give him soup cans to suck on. I'm the only person who does this, to my knowledge.

Finally the house starts coming together. The frame is built first, and once the roof is complete, I can sleep inside, though the interior is very bare bones, like a carcass gutted out. The attic portion is rather strait forward. The bottom will be lousy with hidden rooms, trap doors and trick hallways. Why? Why not! It's _my _chateau!

Night after getting home from my shows, I trudge up the stairs and fall to sleep on my cot. The upstairs is my living quarters. There's a small bedroom at the front of the house. It's small, but it's _perfect._ Two walls and one window are perfect equilateral triangles. The window looks out over the front yard and the driveway. I can see anybody coming or going from there.


	13. Thirteen: The Masters of Disguise

May looms on the horizon. Ricky's coming home for the summer in the end of May. I'll show her what I've been working on and see her reaction. Gus's birthday also comes in May. He ought to be looking forward to this, but as April trudges on and May 6th comes closer, the boy looks more miserable than I've ever seen him. That's worrisome. I'm not the generous type but I buy him something from the Sears and Roebuck catalog.

The box is delivered to 618 Gopher Road. Once again, Fuller Gleeful has gone back to the mine to work. I break in to Gus's house (actually, I just walk in. Neither Gus nor Fuller lock the door! It _still _drives me crazy. I guess it's a country thing) and set up the gift. Later, I stroll him through the door. "A sewing machine. For you, kid!" His old one suffered a break, and the poor kid has been hand-sewing since; if at all. It's a true indignity.

"Billy! Was this expensive?!" Gus blushes.

I grin, but then close my lips and zip with my fingers. "Happy birthday ya cowardly ventriloquist!"

"Oh gosh," he blushes even deeper "please don't bring up Lil Gideon again. That was a _phase, _Billy."

"Which means you'll let me try to bring him to life, right?" I say with a grin.

"Hellz no." Gus says firmly. He approaches the sewing machine. I'm _told _that it's pretty high quality. I didn't get him the one with the motor, though. I'm not _made _of money. Gus runs his hands over the mahogany and inspects the machinery and needles. I _think _he likes what he sees. _He'd better. _

"It's amazing, Billy," Gus finally said "problem is, I won't be using it."

"Come again?" I say with a patient tone, but I can feel anger coming on.

"I'm fifteen now."

My eyes roll back into my head as I try to decode that sentence "Are you too old to sew or something? Is there some rule, like with guising?" I ask, and then add "'Cause I think that's dumb."

Gus shakes his head "I'm old enough to work in the Gravity Falls Coal Mine. I go in for my first day next week."

"Hey, that's great! You uh…you'll be a miner!"

Gus goes to the dining room and sits down at the table. "Yeah. I'll be a miner." He says with far less enthusiasm.

I twist my mouth. I'm not getting it. I come in after him and sit down next tot he guy. "Come on, Kid. Mining can't be that bad, can it?"

He looks up "Billy, what would you say if someone came up to you and told you that you couldn't be a magician any more? That you- I dunno- had to make sandwiches for a living?"

"_Sandwiches?!"_ I draw back as if bitten. "Okay, okay, I think I see your reticence now. But Gus- just because your dad wants you to go into the mines doesn't mean you have to give up on that!" I gesture to the sewing machine through the doorway.

"Not according to my dad. Dad says that art and crafty things are childish endeavors. I'm a man now and need to start focusing on adult things."

"Uhh, _that _argument," I groan, melting into the seat. This was one of many things my Pops and I used to fight about. _You need to stop going to clubs all the time, Bill! You're a man now and you need to act like one!_

"He's going to sell all my patterns, my dress forms, my garments and my tools," he says, with a wistful look at the new sewing machine.

"Wait. Seriously?" I stand up and gesture loudly toward the machine. "He's just going to put that on the market? But it's brand new! He can't just sell it secondhand!"

Gus sighs "I'm sorry. I should have told you before you did this. It's very generous of you, Billy."

I shake my head "That's not right. Those things are _yours. _He doesn't have a right to sell 'em."

"Are they in my name?" Gus asks, but it's a rhetorical question "No, they're not. My dad made it very clear: 'My house, my rules.'"

"Then move in with me!" I exclaim "I got a room almost finished if ya want it! It's got this great stained glass window- wait until you see it!"

Gus crosses his arms on the table and sets his chin into them "What's the point, Billy? My dad's right. I can't make a_ living_ doing this."

I groan, pained, and take my seat again. Now it's my turn to bury my head in my arms.

"What is it, Billy?" Gus is asking me "I know you wanna say _something."_

I pop up "Gus! You have _talent, _kid! I know guys like you who make a _killing!" _

"Lot's of people can sew, Billy!" Gus said, kind of defensively.

"Lots of people can _sew," _I repeat "that's not what you're all about." Again, I jump up from my seat. Long legs carry me across the living room and to the foot of the stairs. I get halfway up these, then look back to see Gus still at the kitchen table. His shoulders are slumped over his arms any more, but he's still sitting there like a barnacle stuck to the seat. "Are ya _coming?!"_

Gus shrugs, pushes out from the table and gets up. He meets me on the stairs and we go up together. Into the attic, which is full of things all covered in dust. Trunks lay on the ground, a bed frame leans on the wall, and there's also a standing clothes rack populated with imaginative pieces.

Seeing one that serves my purposes, I magic it out to present it to him. The Queen Elizabeth the 1st costume is impeccable, the colors balancing each other, the French collar big and fantastic, the bodice baring this intricate design of a rose bush blooming in gold(it's not really gold- just a brilliant yellow).

"Could _lots of people _make that?"

Gus blushes and shakes his head.

"That's what talent is, kid. It's about making something new. Something the world needs to see." Then I hit him across the head "Idiot."

* * *

I come up with the idea as I'm walking home and then spend the rest of the walk feeling scandalized that I didn't think of it before. I run up the driveway, past Gompers, who may or may not be scandalized that I ignore him. There are some precut timbers and rocks in a pile, and a set to work magically putting these together. I the frame up by the time the sun is setting and I have to report to work. I resolve to finish it the next day.

It takes me another day to finish the extension onto Chateau Cipher. Yet another day sanding and creating furniture. I visit the various shops in town- the hardware store and the grocery store- to get an idea of how I want to lay things out. I summon up memories from my past of department stores I have visited, and their clothing sections. I do what I do next under the cover of night, because that's simpler.

The next afternoon I find Gus, walking east up Gopher Road back toward his house. Kid's got a tin of smoking tobacco in his hand. I walk up behind him, feet silently walking on air. I come closer, and closer, until I'm almost hovering over him, but I'm _not _hovering over him because I'm hovering like an inch above the ground. I leer then whisper into his ear "Hey, kid! Watcha doin'?"

Gus sighs and stops. I'm close enough that I'm in danger of plowing into him, and I have awkwardly step around him and to his left. He sees me spider dance around him and I cast him a too-cool look and cross my arms and look down at him over my nose bridge.

"Whaddya want, Billy?" Gus asks, his head slightly cocked.

I grin "I wanna show ya something!"

"What is it?"

I start back in the other direction "Come with me!"

Gus gives another injured sigh "Can it wait?"

I'm getting annoyed. I've got a surprise for this kid and he's not playing along! I cross my arms "Sure it can," I say, as an evil smile splits my face "but _I _can't!"

His blond eyebrows come close together "What does _that _mean?"

I stand up straight with my hands behind my back "Why don't ya find out?"

He suspiciously looks around my torso, trying to get a look at said hands "Are you going to use your magic on me?"

"Why Gus! I've got my hands behind my back, what am I gonna do?" I blink innocently.

Gus chews his lip "Alright," he said "I'm going home now." He begins again in the direction of the lake, giving me a weary look. He continues on, looking over his shoulder every two seconds or so. I remain in the middle of the road, smiling sweetly. Gus finally stops, sighs, and lets his shoulders go limp. He straightens up and regards me out of the corner of his eye.

I'm still standing there, hands behind my back. I smile and nod.

He rolls his eyes, turns around, and stomps back to me. "Is this going to take long?"

* * *

As much of a jerk as it made him look, Gus actually was kind of glad when Billy moved off his property. Still didn't stop the freeloader from coming back all the every day his dad was home and eating. Nor did it stop him from inviting himself into Gus's house at any time he felt like it. But at least his visits were somewhat more fewer and further between, now that he had something to occupy him.

Gus hadn't talked to Billy about the deer. He hadn't gotten a chance. Some understood communication had passed between them. Gus knew how Billy had gotten bloody, and Billy knew he knew. For Billy, that was apparently enough. Maybe it was enough for Gus, too. Maybe that's why he didn't speak to him about it.

He had never visited the property on 618 Gopher Road ever since Billy had gotten possession of it. Frankly he was kind of surprised that the Californian had decided to do something with it, the way that he always talked about how much better it was down south and how he was going to go back once it was convenient to him. Building a whole house was kind of an explicit way of putting down roots.

He had to admit, the house didn't look too terrible, and Billy had put his love into it. Billy lead him to a part of the house that jutted out from the main, triangular frame. "After you, kid," Billy said, stopped at the bottom of some porch steps and gesturing to the door.

Gus climbed the steps and opened the door. The inside was spacious, comfortable, and filled with Gus's clothes.

Gus pushed the door open the rest of the way. They weren't _Gus's _clothes, of course. Gus didn't wear them. But in a certain way, they were more a part of him than the trousers and white shirt he was currently wearing. Here was the Peter Pan outfit he had made for the school play, and here was the tabby cat costume little Dorothea Blub's mother had given back to him, and here was a Sherlock Holmes costume he'd made for fun. Like Billy had done for his house, Gus had poored his heart into these garments. It was like of like looking at children up there. Most were hung up on wishbone hangers that were hooked to racks with wooden dowels that had been tortured into loops. Some were on Gus's dress forms. The first thing that shot out of Gus's mouth was "So _you _were the one who robbed us last night!"

Billy, who had come up behind him, got a shocked look on his face "It wasn't a robbery! I'm gunna share the profits with ya!" He then added "How did ya know ya got robbed?"

Gus gave Billy a sideways look "Really? You left clothes strewn out all over the floor and trunks wide open. For a guy who likes secrets so much, you're very bad at covering your tracks."

Billy looked miffed this information "Well, I'll get better…" he mumbled.

Now Gus pinched the bridge of his nose "Now Billy, tell me, what did you mean when you talked about profits? What is going through your mind _now, _Billy? Do you want to sell my clothes?"

Billy almost jumped up into the air "Oh yeah! Gus, look around ya! This is the future, kid. This is how we're going to keep ya from working in that coalmine!"

Gus blinked. He thought he kind of understood it, but he wanted Billy to explain it more, so he could be absolutely sure he was on the same page with the older teen. "Huh?"

"We're going to become the prem-i-er costume shop in Gravity Falls!" Billy said, extending his arms above his head. He was so happy, so proud of himself, that Gus found himself being drawn in. Even despite everything he had to be angry with Billy about, there was really was something about the magician that was pure; innocent. He had a childish nature that was barely hidden away at most times, and came out to scamper whenever anything caught its interest.

He wanted to help Gus. He had seen the boy worrying a few days before, and he had set this all up. It was probably a foolish and misguided notion, but at least it was _creative._

"There aren't any other costume shops in Gravity Falls," Gus pointed out, trying to stay neutral.

"Exactly. Hence the word 'prem-i-er'."

"I thought premier meant that it was the best, or most well known?"

"Well _yeah,"_ Billy rolled his eyes "but also means it's the first. Unless there's been a costume shop here before?" Gus shook his head, and Billy went on thinking out loud. "But yanno, it _would_ make our costume shop the best in Gravity Falls, wouldn't it? By default, since we wouldn't have anyone to compete with."

Gus could no longer contain his mirth "Billy, you hyperactive goof!" He hugged him around the middle "You did this all for me, didn't you?"

Gus looked around the store- the merchandise already set up. What a dream it would be to share his designs with everyone- to make his living doing what he loved to do most in the world! On one hand, living from day to day like Billy Mischief was a bit of a terrifying thought, but it was also exciting and wonderful. For a moment, Gus was caught up. He could _just _imagine it. He could _just _imagine it working.

Billy put out a hand and Gus felt a magical force peeling his arms away from the boy. It felt a little weird being puppetted such, but Billy only set Gus's arms at his side. The magician crossed his arms over his chest and gave Gus that look that the boy knew meant that Billy had entered the toying-with-him phase. "For _you, _kid? Nah, I did this for the profits. Eighty percent, straight to me!"

Gus sputtered. If he had been eating something at the time, he would have choked. "_Eighty percent?!_ Are you kidding me, Billy? I made all these!" He gestured to the garments "You can't sew Billy- I'm sorry, no offence. _I'm _the artist!"

"Exactly." Billy stated, checking out his fingernails, then making a disgusted face. When he looked back at Gus, the boy saw a twinkle and his eye.

"I don't think so." Gus said, squaring his shoulders.

"Ah, fine, whatever, 70-30," Billy said, waving an arm as if shooing a fly away.

Gus pretended like he didn't hear the offer. Instead, he stood in the same place, staring Billy down. Billy acted like he only just noticed his stare. "What is it, Gus! Quit being a greedy, well, Gus," he chuckled when he realized what he had just done, but Gus continued to stare him down. Billy shrugged- a 'it's out my hands' gesture. "Hey, I gotta important job too! I take care of overhead!"

"Overhead?"

"Yeah- like keeping the roof over our heads." He said, pointing to the roof. "Takes a lotta focus keeping that spell there."

Gus's eyes bulged when Billy said the word 'spell'. "Billy! Don't tell me the roof is reinforced with magic?!"

Billy frowned "Would that be a bad thing?"

Gus's jaw dropped in horror. At the same time, Billy's face split and he let out a wicked peel of laugher. "AHAHAHAHAhahahahaha! Awww, man, Gus! That expression was priceless!" He wiped a tear from his eye "_Of course _it's not, I know more than to do that!" He slapped Gus roughly on the back "This is why I _love_ keeping you company!"

* * *

We walk out into the yard- actually, an ugly, treeless patch of ground, recently cleared by yours truly. We've settled on a 50/50 deal, which Gus seems to think is only fair, but in reality it means that just as much responsibility falls on him if this venture goes belly up. So we're in it together, succeed or fail. However it is 1929, the age of opportunity. It's not like anything's gonna change that.

"I can't believe I'm fifteen years old and starting my own business," Gus says with a smile, but his face darkens "but what will I say to my Dad?"

"Let me talk to the old man," I'm floating next him at this point, feet up. Said feet have had too much ground today- I deserve a break, I've decided. "I'll work him over."

Gus's face has gone ashen though. He's looking behind me, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing like some kind of fish out of the water. He's not talking, but uttering sounds that have no meaning "Fa-fa-fa, Bi-bi-bi, guh-guh-guh—-!" He gestures behind me and I realize that we must have company. I put my feet back on the ground and turn around.

There's a man there. He's on fire. I blink at him as he pets himself down. The man is a stranger- a tourist I guess, in the weirdest get-up I've ever seen. He's dressed from head to toe in one piece of clothing- a gray kind of boiler suit thing. He also has glasses and a shiny head.

I approach him "Well yellow there, traveler! And welcome to-" I cast a look at Chateau Cipher. Shoot- for all my planning, we still haven't come up with a name for our little business. _Think, Bill, think!_ "Gravity Falls Costume Emporium! The prem-i-er costume shop in Gravity Falls!"

The bald man looks me over "Costumes, you say, nineteen-ninety-sevenian?"

I blink "Uh, yeah. Sure." _Nine hundred and what? Huh? _I grin "You're weird! I like it!"

The bald man pumps his arm "Yes! This will prove it to those kids!" He then runs past me, right into the store. Giddy, I run over to Gus.

"See? We've only been in business less than an hour and we already have a customer!"

Gus is still sputtering "But- but- but- that guy-"

"-Sure is swell, isn't he?"

"But Billy, he-"

I smack myself on the forehead "_Duh!_ I have to go finish the sale! Be right back Gus!"

I run into the store. I'm kind of nervous and full of energy when I do the sale, and I try to strike up a conversation with the bald tourist, but he mutters something about not interfering and just keeps talking about proving something to those kids. "Well ya wanna tell me who they are? I might bump into them sometime!" No dice. The bald traveler isn't very friendly, but I don't really care. Our first customer!

I leave the shack a few seconds after the bald tourist, counting my cash. Gus runs up to me, scandalized "Billy! He just did it again!" The kid is exclaiming.

"Huh? Did what kid?"

"Disappeared!"

"Oh. Musta been in a hurry. Kept talking about his kids or something." I hand Gus some bills "Here ya go, kid! Our first sale! I say we make it worth it: let's go get wasted!"

Gus pushes my hand away "No, Billy! I'm telling you! That guy disappeared into thin air!" He points to a place in the middle of the yard "Billy, I think that guy- was like you!"


	14. Fourteen: For Aggravated Theft of Swine

Its a safe bet to say that my curiosity is peaked. Gus would not lie to me about this kind of thing, and he doesn't strike me as a kind of guy who's delusional, either. A shame about that, because I always wanted a buddy who saw pink elephants in the everyday world. It would be much fun to mess with a guy like that! Though probably kinda a challenge too, because if pink elephants are normal for them, you'd have to come up with some really creative stuff to get them to freak out! Uh...I got off track again. What was I talking about?

Oh right! The bald tourist! Well, I don't see him again. I do some asking but no one else saw the fat, hairless man. So, whoever he was, he ONLY came to visit the Gravity Falls Costume Emporium and then blew the town. I'm flattered. Part of me wishes I had stopped him and asked him some questions while he was here but, overwhelming that, I'm relieved that he's gone. If he's really a warlock like Gus thinks he is, and he can teleport and out of Gravity Falls at will, he's far more powerful than me. I _really _don't need that kind of competition.

Toward the end of May, Gus and I are still putting some finishing touches on the store, mainly, a big sign that announces COSTUMES in big gold-ish letters on the angular roof. Despite our interaction with the bald tourist, we've decided to set our official opening day the day before Pioneer Day.

Gus told me all about it- basically a celebration of the town's birthday, but folks like to dress up in raccoon skins and Civil War regalia and pretend like it's the 1860s. A lot of Fallers will going through their closets, _however _Pioneer Day is a tourist event, too, and tourists usually don't come prepared to do some historical guising. Gus and I intend to reel in these saps.

I'm in the middle of floating above the work, checking the bird's eye view, back to the driveway. He tells me this is ridiculous- no one else is going to see the sign from up there. "And what about a low flying plane, huh? Someone who just happens to be flying above the trees here and sees our sign and thinks 'Jiminy Christmas, a costume, that's just what I need!'"

"How often do you expect that to happen, Billy?"

"It _might!"_

"Billy, someone's coming!"

"A plane? Ha, I told ya!" I say, pumping my arm in a victorious gesture.

"No, up the driveway!" He's pointing behind me, and I turn my head. The sound of a motor engine can be heard, and I can see glimpses of beige painted metal through the trees. Quickly as I can, I float to earth, just in time for the car to come around the corner. It's Mr. Northwest's Studebaker.

Gus and I exchange glances "Where _you_ expecting him?" I ask. The driver parks the car. Northwest himself is not driving, but rather his chauffeur, Stanley. Also riding with Northwest and Stanley is their butler, Jesús. Jesús is a tall, muscular man with a thin mustache and eyes narrowed menacingly. All three men get out and approach my grounded self, Northwest leading.

"Fellas! What an unexpected surprise!" I greet them "I'da changed if I knew you were comin'," Gus and I are both in paint-splattered overalls. "Did you come to browse our fine wares? All 100% hand crafted by this guy," I saw, giving Gus a single-arm-hug. "Though I gotta put it in there as a disclaimer, we aren't _officially_ open, yet."

Northwest is flashing that huge, fake smile that annoys me so. His teeth are too big. "Ah, yes, the two entrepreneurs!" He says, looking at the sign "Gold. That's an interesting color."

"It's eye catching." I inform him.

"Quite," Northwest says. "Well, I see you boys are coming along well with this little venture of yours. And I'm sure you have high hopes, but with today's business economy, you can never be too prepared."

I exchange glances with Gus. What is this guy talking about? "Are you making some kinda proposal?" I ask.

"A proposal?" He seems to consider the words "No, not quite. I'd rather like to make a donation- a little something to help your boys through those tumultuous first few months."

A donation? "What's the catch?" I ask right off the bat.

"The catch!" Northwest sounds insulted "Now, now- can't a local man of wealth take an honest interest in a fledgling business? I've been watching you, Mr. Cipher," something about the way he says that kind of gives me pause, but he goes on "you are an intelligent young man. Creative. Energetic. And you are well on your way to making a name for yourself in this town. I just want to make an investment in your future, Mr. Cipher."

An annoyed smirk comes to my face "First of all, it's not just _my _future. It's Gus's too. He's just as much a part of this as I am."

For the first time since he arrived, Mr. Northwest looks Gus in the eye "Of course, the Gleeful boy I-"

"Second," I go on, stepping closer to him "the catch. There is _always _a catch. If you please."

Northwest's mouth becomes a hard, straight line "Always the shrewd businessman. A shame you went into show business, Mr. Cipher, for I do believe politics is your true calling."

"Flattered, Mr. Northwest. The _catch?_"

"My daughter America is coming home in a few days," Mr. Northwest says "break off your affair with her and I'll make an investment into yours _and_ Mr. Gleeful's business."

_Of course _that's what it is. If I was an impulsive man, I'd tell him to go suck a lemon. Instead I ask "What kind of investment?"

"Why don't you tell me what you need, Mr. Cipher."

I give the chateau a discerning eye "What do you think, Gus?"

Gus is staring at me like he can't believe I would accept the offer. "Well?" I prod.

Gus clears his throat "Well I'll need a _lot _of fabric to begin with. I don't think mothers will be willing to buy me theirs anymore if I'm making a profit."

"So, will 500 dollars for fabrics be adequate?" Mr. Northwest asks.

"_And _the kid needs a new sewing machine," I put in, "an electric one." I gesture to Gus "Poor kid's foot is going to fall off if he keeps using that pedal."

"$500 and the best sewing machine on the market."

"And don't forget insurance."

"I won't," Mr. Northwest says, calculating in his head.

"And what about indoor plumbing?" I ask.

"Plumbing?"

"Yeah," I sidle up to him "alright, Mr. Northwe- actually, yanno what? Can I call you Parsifal? Parsifal, I know most Fallers out here are used to running out to the privy and don't think a thing of it, but you and I are used to a higher quality than _that! _The Chateau _needs _indoor plumbing- if you know what I mean."

Mr. Northwest is blushing, but he says "Twelve hundred dollars, and the finest sewing machine on the market."

"And central heat."

"_What?"_

"Come on, Parsifal, I'm looking ahead, here! My customer are not gonna want to change in freezing changing rooms in the middle ah winter! And quite frankly, I think that if I spent one more Gravity Falls winter freezing my butt off I'm going to _kill _someone!"

"Alright, alright!" Mr. Northwest pulls a thin book out of his back pocket and writes furiously with a pen. He pulls a piece of paper out of the book and hands it do me. "A two-thousand dollar deposit, Mr. Cipher, a _very _generous investment into your future, and adequate payment for what you're going to do for my welfare."

Smiling blankly, I take the check. The symbol of the Gravity Falls Bank (a stately looking woodpecker perched on top of a faux-roman building looking out contemplatively into the distance) is on the side. "And the sewing machine?"

"I shall order it to be delivered post haste."

I continue to stare blankly at the check. Then, smile still on my face, I rip it in half.

"Mr. Cipher! What is the meaning of this!?"

I put the two pieces on top of each other and rip them again "This is what I think about this deal, Parsifal."

His face goes plum "Why I never- such disrespect!"

I rip the check again, the other way, then open my palm and, with one breath, blow them out into the wind. "And you disrespect me by thinking you can bribe me!"

His hands clench "Now, I'll say it right now and this is the only time: Stay away from America if you know what's good for you!" Jesús is standing behind Northwest, his eyes narrowed, the tendons in his neck moving as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. I'm not afraid of him.

"Or _what?" _

Northwest laughs. "It's not only capitol that I possess. In fact, I dare say my money is my least valuable asset. What I have is _clout. _Was it correct that I heard you boys wish to open this little enterprise right before our town's Pioneer Day celebration?"

I nod, and so does Gus, but I keep an eye on Northwest.

"Well, who do you think _invented _that holiday celebrating _my _grandfather?"

"So you're going to tell people not to come here?" Gus puts in, concerned.

"I'll do no such thing!" Northwest exclaims "I'll simply casually pass on some of my observations from my visit here. For instance, the roof leaks."

"It does not!" I shout.

"Well," Mr. Northwest inspects his nails "my opinion is not professional, but it is what _I _observed, and people listen to _me._"

I pace in front of him, inwardly steaming, and trying not to let my flames show to Jesús and Stanley. Then I realize something, tip my head back, and laugh. "That's just great, Parsifal," I know he hates me using his first name "but tell me: where _else _are people gonna go?"

* * *

Out of defiance, but also out of a genuine desire to see her, I go over to Gus's old place house to meet Ricky when she arrives home from school. I even have a bouquet of wild flowers in my hand, bound by some wax paper and a rubber band. So when Ricky pulls into her driveway, I swagger up to her and present them to her. Jesús is standing on the porch, his beefy arms crossed threateningly. Ricky looks between me and the flowers like I've lost my mind.

"Um, Hi, Billy. What are the flowers for?" She knows me. She knows I think flowers are stupid.

I smirk "To make your dad mad." I nod to an upper window, where a silhouette can be seen inside.

Ricky adjusts her hair and pretends not to look. "Is he seriously still-?"

I roll my eyes "Oh Ricky- you don't _wanna_ know!"

She takes the flowers and kisses me- on the lips. "There. That otta do it." She grins "He'll probably rage at me to no end but," she smirks "kind of wanted to do that. I was missing your lips, up in Portland."

"Me too!" I declare, then "I mean, ughh..."

She laughs, but even as she does so, Jesús is approaching "I'll see you around." She whispers, and we split. Somehow I know summer is going to be complicated. I wonder if, perhaps, reclining Northwest's offer may have been a better idea than deliberately antagonizing him.

…Nah!

* * *

I have purchased an ad in the Gravity Falls Gossiper concerning our store. It will run through opening week, and it will be a whole quarter page ad on opening day, to go down to a eighth page ad for the rest of the week. That morning, I do something that is so out of character and wake up at five and go on down to grocery store to purchase a newspaper. Grinning like a goon, I'm walking back down the road, flipping to the ad section. I see our ad- with big, eye catching letters. But I see something else first.

"Gravity Falls Costume _Mart?"_

There is a full page ad on the page opposite, with illustrations, large marquee letters and prices that put mine and Gus's to shame. My eyelid twitches. What is this place? I cut through between the buildings, over to Main Street, then proceed over to number thirteen. Not that I have to look around a lot to find it. There's a big blue **GRAND OPENING** banner over the door, as well as a line leading to said door.

I approach the building slowly. How come I never heard of this? Before I can reach it, a white/blond dart almost bowls into my in the street. I dodge Gus at the last minute.

"Billy! Did you see?!"

"I'm looking at it right now, Gus."

"What does this mean?"

I narrow my eyes and gaze at the place across the street. There is a kind of festive mood among those in line and there's a sign in the door advertising prices I wouldn't be able to get away with. I clench my jaw. It's almost as if this place popped up on this day just to be a thorn in my side. "It means competition, Gus."

"Ho-ho, boys!" We're both started by the cheery greeting- probably because the two of us are anything _but _cheery at the moment. I thrust my hands in my pockets as Mr. Northwest approaches. _Of course. Of course he had something to do with this._

"Come to take a look at my new enterprise?" He says, sweeping his arm at the Gravity Falls Costume Mart.

"This is your place?!" Gus exclaims; clearly the kid didn't catch on as quickly as I have.

"Oh yes," Northwest states, catches my eye, and smiles, kind of mischievously "I saw what you were doing down Cemetery Lane and it gave me some ideas of my own. I mean, no offence Mr. Cipher, but to truly capture the _spirit _of this town's past takes the native touch. Don't you agree?"

I grin "That's why I've got Gus!"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Gleeful," Northwest's smile widens. I dislike it. I also feel bad for the kid. I'm fairly good at keeping my poker face, but Gus's face might was well be clear glass. It's all twisted up with anger and I think the kid might be about to shed a tear.

Gus says "Where are you getting the clothes?"

"From a factory in Portland, of course."

"You mean, a sweatshop," Gus scoffs "with those prices." He says, gesturing.

Mr. Northwest looks shocked "Why, how can you say such a thing! The Portland girls thoroughly love their jobs." He then shrugs "But that doesn't mean I don't desire a more local touch. You are a very talented man, Mr. Gleeful. If you are ever in need of a job, come see me."

He saunters back toward the store. Ironically, it's me who suddenly lacks a poker face. "Did that rich creep just insinuate what I though he insinuated?!" I hiss through my teeth as tiny red flames sneak out from between my knuckles.

Gus pushes me up the street "_Don't worry,_ Billy. I am _never _going to go to work for that guy!"

* * *

"Ok, here's the plan. I go over there and torch the place!"

We're in our store. I'm at the counter, leaning chair, no chair legs on the ground, human legs up on the counter, arm draped behind me. Gus is sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, nervous. He goes to the window every once in a while and looks out, each time, no doubt, hoping to see someone there, and each time, sighing and going back to his seat, disappointed. But he doesn't this time. This time he says, loudly and sternly, the way one may speak to a dog "Billy, No!"

"Come'on, Gus. It won't take a minute." I summon a little blue flame in my hand. Watching the little flame dance and imagine it burning that smug smile off Northwest's face at least lightens my mood a little.

Gus sighs "Billy, when he finds out the Gravity Falls Costume Mart has been torched, who do you think is the first person he'll suspect?"

I know the answer, but I'm coy about it "Uh, Thoreau Poolcheck!"

Gus crosses his arms and tilts his head "How about the guy who he _knows _can shoot blue fire out of his hands?"

I allow the flame to dance on my fingers- jumping from one fingertip to the next "I can't imagine who you're talking about, Gus." Then I cross my arms- okay, time to get down to business "Right. We just need to make sure I'm not a suspect. What if he thinks I'm somewhere else at the time? Now how can I convince of that?" I say, thinking out loud "Maybe if he's with me. Oh! _That's _it!" I grin evilly at Gus "I'll take Northwest somewhere, and _you'll _torch the place!"

"Billy! I said no!"

"Gus, I'm being serious!"

"Me too, Billy!"

"Seriously?"

Gus answers with a pained sigh.

"Gus," I retort "Northwest deserves it! He's a major pill!"

"I know he is, Billy, but you don't solve your problems by burning things down." He says evenly.

I groan and lean back further in the seat "Says who?"

"Says just about everyone!" I open my mouth, but he retorts "Oh, no, no, no, Billy, I _mean_ it! _Everyone_. Police, lawyers, philosophers, teachers, the milkman: _everyone _agrees that it's not a good idea to burn down other people's property."

I slump in my chair, my arms hanging to the sides as if they're on strings, and the chair comes to earth. _"Fine._ Arson's out of the question." I adjust the way my hat sits on my head. "I guess we could...yanno, steal all the newspapers and throw away the page with his ad on it."

"Or paint his car some garish color...that's an oldie-but-a-goodie."

"Pink!" I pipe up.

"Not yellow?" Gus asks, amused.

I scoff "His car's already beige. That's kinda yellow. The geezer probably wouldn't notice the difference anyway."

And so we pass the rest of the day coming up with more and more fantastic methods to get revenge on Parsifal Northwest. Some of those Gus come up with are really good, and I take mental note of them. Not a single customer comes through the door. Not. A. Single. One. Gus and I decide to stay open another hour, in hopes of snagging some poor sap who got to the Gravity Falls Costume Mart too late. No luck.

We close up. We'll try again tomorrow. At least the next day, we get to dress up. I know other people don't take this as seriously as I, but I missed the prime Halloween years by not knowing about guising, so I take advantage of Pioneer Day. I get my hair all parted and everything and dress up as Representative Preston Brooks.

("Who?" Gus had asked me the first time I told him about my costume, a week earlier.

I rolled my eyes "Come _on, _Gus, know I _know _you're pulling my leg!"

Gus just looked at me guilelessly and waited for me to explain.

"Representative from South Carolina? Caned a senator because he made fun of his uncle's wife?"

"Never heard of him."

"How can you _not _know who Preston Brooks is!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands to the ceiling.

"So uh, is this guy a hero of yours?" He asked, cautiously changing the subject.

"N-ope! Too mood-swingy!" I said with a happy grin.

"Oh yeah. Mood-swingy's nothing like _you, _Billy!" Gus prodded. I blinked, then realized that he was right. I chuckled at my self. "Okay, okay. But the real reason I'm going with this costume is because I get to carry this swell cane around and threaten people with it!"

Gus snorted "Glad to see you have your priorities in order, Billy!")

And Gus is dressed as a Union soldier. The Chateau already looks pretty rustic, but we've given it a few touches here and there, like a goat on the roof. Okay, actually Gompers just climbed up there himself. Dunno how he managed to get up there, or how he's planning to get down...

Gus sighs as he looks out the window one more time "I suppose coalmining isn't _that _bad," he sighs.

I jump out of my seat all of a sudden, and Gus raises an eyebrow. "You're not gonna be a miner," I shout "And you're working for Northwest either! Gus, what the heck are we doing here feeling sorry for ourselves? We outta do it the way the pioneers did it!" I run into the main part of the house, then to the attic where I have this bachelor's canteen set up, with a stove, a bucket for water, and this odd assortment of non-matching dishes. I grab a frying pan with a handle. As I'm running down the stairs, Gus is in the middle of the hall with a question on his face.

"I'm gonna go drum up some business!" I say, cracking the end of the brooks cane against the pan.

* * *

There's one rule when it comes to Pioneer Day: Do everything in character. Take a horse and wagon out instead of the car(not hard for most folks!). Radio? What's radio? Use old-timey words.

I've run all the way from the chateau over to the square in front of the church where Northwest has been trying to get that statue of his grandfather erected. Into a crowd of people who are milling around in old-timey garb. I immediately start banging my pan and cane together. The cane is really just this simple wooden thing, with a curved end, and painted black, but it does make a jarring clashing sound. "Hear ye, Hear ye! Come one, come all, to the Gravity Falls Costume Emporium!" I make a dramatic gesture to point behind me with the cane "Right off west Gopher Road!"

The people mill around and chuckle, amused. I go on "Tired of moth-eaten, itchy, ill fitting clothes? Tired of being swindled by the big man?" I say, with a wink in the direction 13 Main Street. "Then come on over to Gravity Falls Costume Emporium for all your pioneer duds!"

"That's him!" Someone exclaims- a lady faller in a pink dress standing next to a message board hastily nailed together out of split logs. "It's Billy the Pig Thief!" The others reply with gasps, and she goes on "No, really!" He removes one of the documents from the board and waves it above her head "Look!"

Some other costumed Fallers crowd around her to look at the document. "Billy the what?" I'm at least curious. I stroll over and grab the piece of paper from her.

WANTED

FOR AGGRAVATED THEFT OF SWINE

**BILLY THE PIG THIEF**

Under this there are two pencils sketches of yours truly- from the front and from the side. They aren't bad likenesses, but "Is my beard _really _that scraggly?" I ask, self consciously feeling it with my fingers.

"Get him! Before he takes our pigs!" A man shouts, and suddenly the whole group of people are closing in on me.

"What?" I question, and at the last minute notice the reward printed at the bottom of the page. "Five hundred dollars?"

The crowd is nearing in on me "Okay guys, haha, funny joke," I say "but really- I'm no thief!"

Hand clamp around me "Save it for the judge!" The first woman says dramatically. I'm lead across the square to the sheriff's office. I could get away, probably, but I know this is all part of the game. For some reason, some fella went through the trouble of printing that pioneer era poster and putting my face on it. Well, if they want to pretend I steal pigs as part of their little celebration, let them. What are they going to do, put me in ye stocks? Probably force me to be some kind of impromptu performance, more like!

I think this until Sheriff Blubs forces me into a contraption and throws a heavy board over my neck and hands. "What?" I exclaim for the second time that hour. I don't have many words for this madness. Struggling does not free me- I'm trapped. I glare up at Sheriff Blubs. "Ok, pal, funny joke. You can let me out, now!"

"You think pig thievery is a joke?" Blubs says severely, and winks at me before walking off.

"No-no-no- _wait!_" I exclaim "Come back here and let me out!" I demand.

"You can protest all you want, Pig Thief, but a crime's a crime!" Blubs strolls out of my view and I grind my teeth. This situation is getting more insane every second. Whatever. I'll just have to get out of this myself. I'm sure Sheriff Blubs didn't want his stage prop burnt to a charred mess, but I didn't want to be locked up like this, so I'll make us even. I just have to make sure no one is watching...

The town square sure is full of a lotta people. A lotta people with their eyes on me, who point and laugh at the guy in the stocks. "Dontcha folks have some donkeys to ride or something?" I sneer.

But the people have no interest in leaving. I'm not doing any tricks, but I'm still the afternoon's entertainment. How lucky for me. But the fact that I can't get them to leave or even look away means that I really _am _imprisoned. Unless, of course, I want to also star in an authentic 1863 witch hunt and subsequent drowning. And I don't.

"Spoiled tomatoes!" A kid is shouting from the other side of the square. He has robust red hair and I wonder if he doesn't have some Corduroy genes. "Buy your spoiled tomatoes here!"

It's a weird pitch and, weirder still, the fallers gather around the boy to buy his wares. But it all makes sense when the townspeople turn around, tomatoes in hand, evil smiles on their faces, looking at me.

"Oh no," I say "no! No-no-no-NO-NO!"

I try to put my hands in front of my face to shield it from the onslaught of overripe fruits, but the way that they're bound makes this impossible.


	15. Fifteen: The D-Word

Tomato juice is on my face and dries in the sun. The acidic stuff itches like hell but I'm not getting any relief- not while the square is still fulla saps who are happy to indulge in the misery of yours truly. Tomato seeds and skin hang in my hair and stain my hat. I hate these fallers. Every. Single. One.

A shadow comes over me. Someone, standing just out of view, says "Thank you again, Mr. Cipher, for volunteering for the role of the pig thief!"

I recognize that posh accent. I struggle in my bonds and a wordless growl comes out of my throat. This growl eventually turns into "Nnnorthwest!" Then "I did _not _volunteer for this!"

"What? Mr. Cipher!" Northwest chuckles, come around so I can see him, and reveals a parchment from within his coat "Your brain must be fatigued. See here? You did volunteer!" I read the parchment angrily. It's a description of various activities for the day, with familiar names next to some of the activities. And in big bold type: **The Pig Thief will be portrayed this year by: **_William M. Cipher._ My name is signed in ink.

"That is not my signature!" I say, digging my fingernails into my palms.

Northwest shakes his head and puts the parchment back under his suit jacket "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Cipher. For shame! You _volunteered _for this role, and now you just want to back out?"

It takes every bit of my concentration not to send a fireball careening his smug way. I never have been very good with keeping my temper under control. It's a rattlesnake, and Northwest is doing a jig on top of it! And yet I _know_ that if I retaliate, things will be even worse for me.

I just have to bite my tongue...for now.

I smile up at him. Not my signature shit-eating grin, but something more sweet and fake "You're right, Parsy. I should just take this like a man." There is a small eyebrow twitch at the name 'Parsy'. So at least I'm able to annoy him a little.

Northwest bends down so he's eye to with me. He speaks in a whisper "Have you reconsidered, yet boy? I've shown you a hint of what I can do. I have the power to make your life _very_ comfortable or," he gestured to the stocks "otherwise."

"Hmmm, let me think…n-ope!" I say, then whisper back "Hey Parsy, have you ever considered asking about your daughter's feelings about this instead of making decisions _for _her?"

Northwest shakes his head "This is not a matter in which she can make her own decisions."

"You wanna say that to her face? Because I know you musta seen her mad at least once, and hearing you talk about her like that would make her prit-y mad!"

"And again, she has no agency in the decision! I will not have my only daughter associate with a demon!"

In his last statement, the volume of Northwest's voice has been steadily rising, so that when he gets to the word 'demon' he's yelling. All the people in square look on, believing this to be just another part of the show, but I'm the only one who can see Northwest's face. I can see his eyes, how rage and fear has turned his face red, how his mustache prickles. And I know that for Northwest, this is dead serious. He thinks I'm a demon, and _that's _the reason he hates me. He thinks I'm going to do evil things to his daughter and carry her off to Hell, or something like that.

This is not true, of course. This is nothing like the truth. But just look at his face! He believes this so powerfully that it's not going to be easy to convince him otherwise. "Ya meant warlock," I say weakly.

Northwest seems to become aware of his surroundings again. He stands up and turns around. He smiles fakely at the audience. "That old demon- always stealing our pigs!" He musses up my hair that isn't covered up by a hat. "I'll leave you folks and the pig thief to your own devices."

He walks away. I track him with my eyes for as long as I can. _He really thinks I'm a demon?_

* * *

More time passes. Being in the stocks is painful. People aren't meant to bend like this for this long. Because it's Pioneer Day, someone has let a number of farm animals run loose on the street. I don't know whose bright idea that was, but at the moment a family of chickens are pecking my ankles. I can't see my ankles, but with the ferocity that the chickens are pecking, it feels like they're having a _feast_ on my flesh. Well I'm glad _somebody's _having a good time.

Actually, just about everyone I see is merry. Some guys are roasting a deer they just killed this morning on a spit. Farmer Pepperon is giving a gold sifting presentation. And even I've struck a deal with the red haired tomato salesman.

"Hey kid, com'eer. Come on, I don't bite." Once he's near, I pitch "How about I help ya sell even _more _ah those things?" Once we've negotiated my cut, the kid goes back to this post, and I start with the insult comedy.

"Hey Mr. Determined! I heard the some trolls were looking for their lost baby- that must be you!"

"Watch out, a giant hog got free! Oh, I'm sorry, that's just farmer Pepperon!"

"Hey Mr. Poolcheck, I saw your wife over at Dr. Pitt's this morning. I sure hope she's hasn't come down with a case of wandering heart!"

Any insult I can think of at the top of my head, really, but it does the trick. Several angry, costumed fallers descend on the young redhead to buy his spoiled fruits. Ya might be asking why I would bring about even more suffering upon myself, but my motives arefourfold. For one thing, insulting people is great! The only problem is that, in real life, people get all indignant about you calling them fat. When you're in a performance, though, you can do whatever ya want and it's "entertainment". And, hello! I'm inna show right now! It's not exactly something to my choosing, but it's still a show. Gotta ham it up!

Second, boredom. I can sit here and feel sorry for myself and try to go unnoticed by tomato pelters, but what's the fun in _that? _Finally, pride. Now that I know that Northwest is behind this, there is not a _chance_ I'm going to let people see that I'm bothered! If I have to pretend that I agreed to his plan all along, so be it. Northwest will get what he deserves in due time. For the moment, I'll be Billy the Clown. The last reason, and the most basic of all, cash. You can never have too much cash.

Another shadow comes over me. Oh yeah- that's another really annoying thing about the stocks: my range of view is so limited! My head is pretty much stuck where it is. I can look to the side a little, but I can't turn said head. I like to watch things. My view is so small right now!

"I wonder what my father offered you to get you to volunteer for this role?" Ricky's voice is low and nice and, at the moment, bubbled with laughter.

But I reply "Nothing. I didn't volunteer."

"Seriously?" She comes around the front and bends so she's on even eye level with me.

"Seriously," I roll my eyes, then flash her a weak smile "hi, Ricky. You're looking tight!" And she is. She's wearing a cute little buckskin dress, like some kind of pioneer princess, her short hair under a coonskin cap. Of course, her face is just as make-uped and pretty as ever. I choose not to point out this particular anachronism.

"So, let me guess:" She doesn't know it, but she's standing with one hip jutted out, the way only a Northwest can stand "he just forged your name and forced you to get into the stocks?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened."

"Why?"

I look up at her. My suspicion is that she already knows the answer. Her eyes soften when they meet mine "Well, he _has_ been talking to me about breaking it off with you."

"I knew it! Tryin' ta work us from both sides."

Her eyebrows come close together and her nostrils flare "So he told _you_ to do the same thing? And he put you in stocks because you refused?"

I do a half shrug, and when this is aborted painfully by the boards, I flip my hands up, palms toward the air. "That's the gist of it."

She shakes her head. "And, let me guess: that store he just opened up on Main Street, the one that opened the _same day _and yours and Gus's store, the one with the suspiciously similar name- that has something to do with you not breaking up with me, too, right?"

"Now you're on the trolley!"

"I just," she stands up and shakes her head "I just- can't _believe_ him! He never was like this with any of my other boyfriends!"

"I know! This isn't fair!" My voice goes impossibly high as I consider this, then "Wait. You've had other boyfriends?"

Ricky scoffs "Come on, Billy, do I kiss like an amateur?"

"Were they taller than me?" I ask- out of genuine curiosity and maybe some latent masochism.

"Billy! Focus!" She snaps "Why would he be like that, anyway?"

I purse my lips. There is _one _thing that makes me different the other guys Ricky has dated. I bet Mr. Northwest never called any of those guys _that _word before! I have an answer on my lips but, at the last second, think better of it and hold onto it. Somehow I don't think I can utter the D-word without Ricky choosing not to take me seriously.

"I don't know." I lie.

"Billy, I'll be right back," she gets a barrel, rolls it over to the stocks and turns it on a flat side. She sits on this "There. I was getting tired of bending there."

"Oh, you poor dear thing," I say mockingly.

Ricky blushes and jumps up "Gosh, your back must hurt so much!" She jumps up and goes around the stocks.

"Ricky?!" I call, but she's gone. She's abandoned me…

No she hasn't. I jump a little when a pair of hands touch my back. Ricky presses her fingers and palms into said back, through the fabric, and starts to rub. I groan. "Oooohhhhh, that's the spot."

"Poor fellow! How long have you been here? Is there anything I can get you? How about water?"

I stiffen "I know I don't need your pity, Ricky."

"This isn't pity, idiot." She says "This is me taking care of my boyfriend when he needs me. Now. My question stands."

I take a moment to swallow my pride "Only thing I need is the key to this."

"Well, the only two people with keys to the stocks are Sheriff Blubs and my father..."

"Of course it's those two." I roll my eyes.

"I _think _I'll have better luck convincing the sheriff than my father. I'll try him first." She stands up. The massage ends. I'm regretful. "Did you see where he went?"

"I heard he went to judge the lard eating contest."

"Okay," she bends down to kiss me on the forehead "don't worry. I don't know what made my father go insane lately, but he doesn't run our lives! Sit tight."

"Haha, like I have a choice!"

"But you do, don't you?" She smiles sweetly "and you're being the bigger man about it. You don't have to, but you are. And that's why I love you."

I feel like someone just pushed me forcefully in the chest. Did she just say-?

I search for her dark eyes above me, and see that she's just as surprised as me that she said it. She blushes deeply and averts her eyes, but there is a hint of a smile on her face. She looks radiant. Boy does she look radiant. She starts jogging toward the other side of the square, where the church is.

* * *

I manage to provoke six more tomato onslaughts. So that makes sixteen total. I'm drenched in rotten tomato pulp. I've got to many seeds on my skin, in my hair, and in my cranial orifices that I wouldn't be surprised if tomatoes started going _out _of me. I will never again in my life eat a can of tomato soup; I swear this on my favorite top hat.

The day is winding down. People are drifting away from the various amusements (including me), folks are shutting down their stands, a woman is herding her chickens from my ankles and people are taking off their weird, mid-19th century headwear and replacing them with weird, early 20th century headwear. The young tomato merchant packs up his crates, but not before coming to see me. He divides the profits as promised and offers to stick my share in my pocket, but I'm wise to that trick. Kid's planning to short change me since I can't see what's behind these stocks! I tell him to count it out and put it in my hand. He's miffed, which just proves to me that he had had ulterior motives. Kid should be glad! He made a lot more than he would have otherwise because of me.

The redhead leaves. A lot of people have already left. For some reason I'm not going anywhere, though.

I wish I could see more than what's in fronta me! Where's Ricky? Sheriff Blubs? Mr. Northwest? One of them has got to come by sooner or later and let me outta this contraption! They wouldn't leave me here all night!

Would they?

I'm starting to think that Mr. Northwest _would. _But not Sheriff Blubs! _He _has humanity! And Ricky, she wouldn't let me stay here! She-

She said-

She said she _loves-_!

Involuntarily, my mouth and tongue go dry at the thought.

The dryness of my tongue reminds me of other parts of my body that are uncomfortable, like my itchy, tomato-stink face, my aching back, my bleeding ankles. I'm back to the real world. And in the real world, I'm bound like a 19th century criminal! I've gotta get outta this!

"Hello!" I call to a family leading their donkey home "Hello- _hey! _I'm still here!" I struggle against the bonds with my muscles which, of course does nothing "I'm notta pig thief any more! I can go now!"

They're ignoring me. Everyone is ignoring me. The sky is a salmon color. It will start getting dark soon. This is pathetic!

Grumpily, because my back is screaming at me, I wait for the square to finally clear out. No one is coming to release me; I have to release myself. The last family finally square and I let out a sigh of relief- just when the mother shouts "Oh wait! I forgot my cheese wheel!" And runs back.

"Oh come on!" I shout.

She gives me a glare and turns her nose up at me. Cheese in hand, she walks back to join her family.

"Hey lady! Ya think ya can walk any slower?!" I yell after her.

"Hmph!" She says, putting her head up higher.

Once they're gone, I'm finally ready to get myself out of- "Oh _COME ON!"_

There is a group of men walking up Main Street toward the square. I slump in the stocks and groan unhappily at the gravel road below my feet. _Now _what?!

The men form sort of a cluster around me. I hear Mr. Northwest's voice "Well, Mr. Pig Thief, are you ready to relinquish your role now?"

I look up. I'm ready to tell him something smart or sassy, something about doing this all the night long. But then I see who he's with- and what he's wearing, and the sassy comment retreats back into my gut, where it becomes a cold ball in my stomach.

There are six men present, each of them dressed differently. Mr. Northwest still has that stiff black suit like Abraham Lincoln, which, since we're rivals, I guess means I shoulda gone for more of a Jefferson Davis look. But that's beside the point. Most of these men are in modern clothing. One guy has a shaped beard and an angular face.

I know him. I saw him back in San Francisco.

Each of the men is wearing a red fez. Each fez bears the symbol of a fish eating a dot.

In two seconds, the stocks are gone. There is pile of black ash at my feet, and the lock, a pair of hinges, and some nails fall on top of this pile. As for myself, I am finally standing up straight, but not for long. After a second, I'm at a run, full tilt, toward the trees behind the police station.


	16. Sixteen: Fish Fezzes

I run as fast as I can through the woods, between the tall trunks of trees, over roots and jumping/floating over obstacles. I run at a sprint until my mind catches up with my body which is driven by pure fear. When this happens, I take a look behind me. None of the red-capped men have followed.

It's like it was before, I realize. They're not going to give chase. They're simply going to spread out- to make a noose around me and tighten it until finally I'm trapped.

They've used their tricks on me before, but I've used _my _tricks on _them _before. We are both aware what the other is capable of. The thing is, their method is going to work better this time. Gravity Falls is not only smaller than my old home, it's also not as dense. There's not as many places to hide.

But at least the water doesn't hem me in this time.

A year ago- more than that- I worked on the docks, on what is musically called the Embarcadero, but it's really just a long sea wall with a bunch of piers sticking out like the jagged teeth of a hillbilly. I was far off from the picturesque ferry building and hustle and bustle and excitement of that, and my world was the hustle and bustle and excitement of trade. Now I worked for a company that brought in necessaries from across the bay- grains, various oils, cotton by the bale, ink, flour, canned food, coal, hemp, gasoline and et-cetera. Yanno- all the little, often overlooked things that help us live like intelligent, modern folk.

But, every once in a while, a vessel from Canada 'accidentally' found its way to our pier and unloaded some Canadian goods, like Canadian bacon, Canadian salmon, and Canadian booze. And when these happen, we did not, of course, turn them away. These little accidents happened, actually, quite regularly, and oftentimes even on a schedule. Must be those Canadian boat pilots getting all confused in foreign waters. Yanno—some excuse here—metric system…

Here's the thing about prohibition- I am much more aware of it in my new home than I ever was in San Francisco. In San Francisco, prohibition is a joke. The lawyers and politicians are all conducting business meetings over glasses of brandy, and even the fuzz frequent the speakeasies.

Here, there is only one sheriff and his deputy, but said sheriff does, unfortunately, have morals. That and there are only two resident bootleggers, who work together, and are often gone for weeks at a time. During these dry periods, the residents of Gravity Falls are left with make home made hooch as their only option, and considering its color and flavor the fact that it has the possibility to _kill a guy _I'm content to stay sober during those weeks.

Not that I was allowed near these accidental shipments. My job was to unload more mundane goods from those steamers coming from Vallejo and Oakland and get these loaded up on freight trains traversing the city. It was sweat inducing, nail breaking work but it was a source of income and it did pay reasonably well. And every once in a while one of those flasks would go missing, only to _magically_ show up on my person. I musta been lucky or something!

I'm sure this is all very boring to you, so I'll get to the point: the docks was the first place I ever saw one of those fish fezzes. He was down on the piers, talking to one of the captains, which is not unusual. Myself and my crew had been hard at work doing what we all did best: nothing productive, when a ship had docked and we all sprang to out feet.

The group of about half a dozen grungy looking boys passed the two gentlemen. Myself being one of those boys, my eyes wandered at the last minute- perhaps feeling some tug of unease. And indeed, the man was looking at me.

I got a look at his eyes. And then I got a look at the symbol on his cap.

Maybe it was intuition, but as soon as I saw it I had a bad feeling in my stomach. Rather unusual for me- I'm a laid back guy. The feeling persisted for about an hour, until a time when us wharfies became distracted enough by a barrel of cooking oil that had gotten loose while suspended and dropped onto the pier, shattering one corner and guzzling over the wooden boards. Then we all got into action trying to stop the loss of oil, as we all knew that this would probably come from our paychecks.

The next time I saw one of them was a couple of days later, in the marketplace, while picking up some eats for Pops and me. My paycheck for that day had taken a cut because of the lost oil, but I had recouped my losses by pulling a few scams with my boys ferry station. Tourists are wonderfully gullible, especially those from the country. No offence to my current neighbors, but get summa these fallers out of their native habitat and they're ripe for the picking. We pulled out before we sensed we would get noticed.

I was haggling with a cucumber merchant, finding barely visible flaws on his vegetables and telling them that his fruit was nigh un-sellable, and merchant's was telling me the cucumbers are perfectly fine. It was still before midday, so the best vegetables had been bought by the restaurants, but there were still plenty of fresh cucumbers left for everyday folk, and plenty of potential buyers still may come his way, so the negotiations could have gone either way at this point.

I just happened to look up and to the left and see two men with the fezzes talking on the sidewalk. They were both looking at me. I stared back, that feeling of unease once again in my stomach. It was an annoying sensation, because I had no reason to fear these men or the dumb symbols on their hats. I had never ever seen them before!

_Enough._ I decided. I'd approach them and strike up a conversation, and prove to myself that I had no reason to be afraid. I left the cucumber merchant without buying a thing- indeed, without saying a word to excuse myself and began up the sidewalk. Side stepping around people in clusters, for many of the factories just let out a shift and everyone is up to their after-work chores now.

It took me too long to walk ten yards up a sidewalk, and the two befezzed men got into a cab which pulled out. By the time I got to that place, not only had they left, but it was too crowded for me to see in which direction their cab went as well.

I saw them again at the park, on a date with some doll I had just met, and again at the movie theater, on a date with a different girl, and then once while I was buying the paper, and once getting off a trolley just as I was getting on. It was starting to drive me a little screwy seeing these guys all the time.

"What are you talking about, Bill?" My pal Helen questioned me as we lounged on the roof of an apartment complex, smoking cigarettes. "I've never seen these guys in the fezzes."

"Then you're not looking hard enough! They're everywhere! There must be a convention or something…"

"Then why let it worry ya, kid? I've never seen you this high strung." She ruffled my yellow hair. Helen and I go way back. No, really- we used to play in the gutters together as kids. She knows about my magic and I know a few things about her that her family doesn't. "It's like you think they're following ya or something."

I realized this is exactly what I suspected, though when I said as much, I was only laughed at, and not for my sidesplitting comedy. But Helen was right. They showed up every place that I spent more than a few minutes. When I did not drop the subject, she scoffed.

"Look, just come out to the club with me later tonight. There's no _way_ those fossils will show up there. Then you'll see it's all in your head, ya goof."

That evening at dinner I pushed peas around on my plate with a fork "You gonna eat, son, or you just gonna to make food art?" My Pops questioned from across the room. It's kinda funny how the two of us look standing next to each other- we probably couldn't be any more different in personality, but we _look_ like totally different people, too. My Pops is short and squat, and pale, with thinning, combed back black hair. His arms are short, but muscular. His face is round and mustachioed, with small, dark, furtive eyes. The only feature we really share is a pointed, aquiline nose. Guess I get all my good looks from my old lady.

I shrug, and shovel a few forkfuls of food into my trap. "Hey, Pops, I'm going out tonight."

He looks out into the distance as he chews his meat. "Bill," he says "you've gone out two nights already this week. Don't you think you should give it a rest?"

I'm already on the defensive. "But Pops! I've already made plans!"

He puts his palms up "It was only a suggestion. I could use some help around here, Kiddo. And it couldn't hurt you to pick up some life skills. You're not going to make it in life by dancing all the time."

"Of course I'm not," I say cheekily "not when my destiny is in magic."

Pops gave me a pained look "You're not telling me that you're still seriously considering going into show business, are you?"

We had had this discussion before. I stared at my food, trying to decide if I wanted to take the effort to have the discussion again. Pops interpreted my silence as impertinence, and went on "How many times do I have to tell you to forget magic, Bill? You'll be much more satisfied with your life if you live it honesty."

"Will I be satisfied, or will _you?"_ I snapped back darkly.

"Bill!"

"Besides, magic _is _honest work for me!" I pointed out "I'd probably be the only _honest _magician out there!" To demonstrate my point, I levitated the plates and silverware on the table with the food on them. Pops watched his fork rise into the air, annoyed "I have talent," I went on "but I never get to use it! I'm just sitting here squandering my natural, god-given abilities!" I let the dishes settle back down to the table. They only clanged a little.

Pops's developed an odd look on his face at the phrase "god-given", then shook his head "You just don't understand, Bill."

"No, _you _don't understand!" I stood now, shouting "You don't understand what it's like to have alla this inside ah you, but you're not allowed to let it out! I feel like I'm in a prison, Pops! Everyone's telling me I hafta just be normal. That I hafta be like them. But I'm not like them! I'm _me_!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that being yourself isn't in your best interest, Bill?" Pops replied darkly.

I stared down at my hands on the table "Why should that be, though? Everyone else gets to be who _they _really are."

Pops chose to change the subject instead of replying "How was work today, Bill?"

"It was fantastic!" I snapped, picking my plate up from the table "Thanks for the food, Pops. I'm stuffed."

I changed into my glad rags and left the apartment. I met Helen on the corner and we made our way to a little place on Mason Street we were both familiar with. A little sign hanging above the door had an illustration of a pupil behind a monocle, with the curving text underneath: _The Dapper Eye._

We were greeted with music as soon as we came in. Horns blaring, strings thrumming, drums coming in as exclamation points after every musical statement. There was a platform where the band played. Four guys with trombones blasted in each other's directions. The floor was decorated in a ritzy way, with art deco gold paneling and potted palm trees. It was an open dance floor, and I came swaggering in, arms spread wide.

"The wait's over; Cipher has arrived!"

Guys and dolls I knew rolled their eyes and resumed dancing, and those girls I didn't know giggled and eyed me. What can I say? I cut a fairly sharp figure in a modern suit, and I know it. But I would not dance yet. When I was toddler, women were marching for the right to vote. Now that I'm a teenager, women rule the dance floors. Let no man fool you into believing otherwise. The women would decide when I would dance. I would wait.

I was watching this one doll- a green-eyed beauty with curly red hair. There was a little space cleared out for her, and her ankles and elbows were going everywhere. This is why they call modern girls flappers: can _move_. Arms, legs, hands, knees, feet all going everywhere and it's poetry to the eyes.

The girl caught my wandering eye and she beckoned me with a finger. I was up in two seconds flat and cut in, matching her rhythm. I danced next to her, dangerously close but never touching. The girls can say whatever they want about me- a _am _a good dancer because I'm so _flexible._

A flapper with pale sin wearing a dark green dress snuck in between the both of us. Helen said coyly to Green-Eyes "I wouldn't get too used to Bill- he's a good dancer, but more trouble than he's worth!"

"The lady knows what she's talking about!" I grinned, not missing a step. _Trying to steal my girl, huh Helen? _As far as women went, we had the same taste, which always made our excursions interesting.

Green-Eyes's green eyes lit up and she smiled impishly "I _like _trouble!"

"Well that's something we have in common, then!" I said, taking her hand.

I danced with Green-Eyes until I was stolen away, and then my new partner was stolen by another guy, so then I was stealing Helen from Green-Eyes, which I could tell annoyed my pal to no end. So the night's revelry continued, until I got ready for a break. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Helen and Green-Eyes making their way to the bar. _So they hit it off._ Not wanting to be a third wheel, I took a circular route around the dance floor, through the crowd of spectators.

"Hello, William."

It's a common name- almost up there with the likes of John or Jim, but my head turns anyway because apparently I'm not a human being but some kinda trained dog, jumping at the sounda my name. Indeed, it has been myself being addressed. The person who addressed me is youngish man leaning against the wall. He had pale skin and slicked back black hair. He smiled disingenuously and tilted his head, making sure I could see the cap on top of it.

The fez! The fish symbol!

"Helen was wrong! You _are_ following me!" I called him out. Several faces turned my way. But for the band, people hadn't been keeping conversation to talking volume.

The man unglued himself from the wall "Perhaps we should talk in a more secluded place?"

I thought about it a few seconds. For some reason, that dumb symbol was giving me the creeps. It was messing around with the way I was thinking. There was nothing about the symbol to be afraid of! On the other hand, the man _did _address me, and he did ask me if we could talk. He followed me here- the last place that some old geezer in a club should have been (thought this man was not, I noted, himself that old). He's just confirmed my suspicion that I have been followed over the last few days.

I kept these thoughts to myself, nodded, and showed him to the back door- as he, as an out-of-towner, would not know where to find it. "After you," he said.

"Oh no. I'm not turning my back on you." I level with him, and urge him to go through.

"Shrewd," the man noted, and walked out the door himself. I followed out into another street, this lit up by the light of the lamp.

"Tell me right now why you and you're fashionably challenged buddies have been following me!" I demanded as soon as we were out on the street.

The man put up his hands "We never meant any harm- we just wanted to make sure that-"

"So you got him?"

"Great- now we can get on with business!"

They materialized out of the shadows- men in severe black jackets and dark red fezzes. Four men appeared from their hiding spaces, making five fish fezzes in total. My eyes widened with surprise.

"You tricked me! This is a trap!"

The youngish man looked genuinely surprised before looking behind himself "Huh? Oh, no, William, we just-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because I had just darted back into the club. I ran across the dance floor, almost plowing over some dancers who glared at me. Ignoring them, I looked back to the back door. The fish fezzes were there, and one of them- a man with a sculpted beard and an angular face- starts pointing to the other door. As two split off to go to the front door, I realized that they were trying to hem me in. But there was another exit they didn't know about.

That is, if it was real…

I ran into the hall and, from there, into the men's water closet. After making sure I was alone in the room, I floated to the ceiling and banged on certain panel in said ceiling. The panel fell out, along with a rope ladder. Yes! It _was_ here! I ignored said ladder, levitating myself into the next floor.

A few years ago, the basement flooded and the speakeasy was moved to the ground floor- a risky move. The proprietors of the place, always thinking ahead, had had an escape route down below of course- but they had installed another during that month of flood. Of course once the basement had cleared out and speakeasy had gone back down below, the new escape route had been forgotten. Glad I was that I heard one of the twenty somethings talking about this escape; otherwise I would have been in trouble!

The second floor hall was carpeted and decorated with furniture. The proprietor of _The Dapper Eye _slept here during the day. I knew he had a lady, so I walked on an inch of air so as not to make a sound, but hastily, as to get out of here quickly. I ran to the window and tried open it. It was lock, and said lock rusted into the locked position. "Come _on_," I muttered to myself, getting nervous, and I fiddled with the lock.

Wait, what was I doing?

I hit the lock with a finger blast and it ceased to be. The window came up easily. I got onto the fire escape and, seeing people nearby, elected to take them as they were intended instead of floating down.

Once to the ground, I walked hastily up the street, choosing not to run as, once again, it would draw attention to myself. I did not see any more fish fezzes for a while, so clearly they still believed I was inside _The Dapper Eye._

For about an hour I footed it around the city, sometimes hopping on and off trolleys if they were still running. I did not see any fish fezzes leave _The Dapper Eye _but I couldn't be sure I wasn't being followed, so I walked about, taking this street then that, doubling back on myself- basically making a circuitous route back to the apartment I shared with Pops back in Jackson Square. I didn't even approach my house right away when I reached my street, but watched it for a while, from a grocery store, until I was informed to buy something or get out.

I suppose I do have a knack for paranoia. It's just one of my many skills.

Except this time my paranoia was on my side, because just as I was crossing the road I saw a shadow on the blind in the apartment where I lived. Now it's not like shadows on the blind are a something unusual, but the opportunity for there to be shadows kinda _was. _I mean it was past midnight by the time I was standing in the street there. Pops get up early in the morning so he shouldn't have been up so late, and it wasn't like he was in the habit of leaving the lights on for me.

The shadow was ill defined, and I couldn't tell whether I was looking at the small frame of my Pops or someone else until a pink finger pushed the blind aside and a face looked out. It was not my Pops's face. The man I saw had an angular face, with high cheekbones that looked like they could cut, and a silver beard and mustache combo that was painstakingly sculpted. In other words, though he did not bear the fez on his head at the moment, I knew it was the man from _The Dapper Eye_; the leader of the fish fezzes.

That was it. It was last straw. It was one thing for these guys to suspiciously show up in all the public places where I spent my days. But this fez was _here_, at my _home. _There is no way now that Helen or anyone else was going to convince me that all these sightings of these guys had been _coincidences. _They were following me! They knew my name. _And they knew where I lived! _I had every reason to be afraid of them!

I was in the middle of the street, unfortunately under the light of a street lamp, when the sight of the man's face turned me to stone. Unfortunately, it couldn't have picked a worse spot to stop, because the streetlight might as well have been a spotlight, and I was in plain view. The fez spotted me after less than a second. His eyes widened but he also saw that I know who he was.

I dashed down the street; right in the middle of the road- I didn't care! I ran at full sprint. Once, I heard my name in the dark. "Wait, come back, William! We only want to-" but the last part was blown away by a San Francisco wind. My shoes pounded the asphalt and my heart beat against my chest. I found my way to the docks where, even at this time of night, there was activity. Boats moving in and out, things being loaded and unloaded. I ran along the piers for a while. This was it. I had to escape the city!

I could hear other shoes pounding the pavement in the dark, coming from the vague direction of inland. I was hidden by the same darkness, but I could not rely on it to hide me for long. I scanned the steamboats until I saw one I thought I might have luck with- a brilliant white ship with an angular prow. A figure I recognized was having a cigarette in the middle of the pier.

I ran right out onto the pier, past a couple of guys who were grumpy to see me. "Jim! _Jim!" _The forty something boatman startled as I approached him "I _need _to get on the _Andrea Lucille!"_

Jim put out a bracing hand. He was slightly red haired, and scarred about the face, but unlike many seamen, clean-shaven. This gave him a paradoxical look that was both young and old at the same time. "Bill! This isn't a passenger ship- I can't just let you on!"

I took the lapels of his collar. It must have looked weird- a kid dressed to the nines out here on this fishy smelling pier threatening a sailor twice his age. "Jim, please! I wouldn't ask ya if it wasn't _really _important!"

"And so is my job, pal," Jim replied, pulling away "I ain't putting that in jeopardy because ah you! What did ya get into this time- trouble with the law?"

"Don't forget ya owe me, Jim!"

The boatman startled as he realized that I was right. A couple of months back Jim had gotten in trouble for being in the company of a pro skirt, and they both would be facing time now if I had not sweet talked the lawman into deciding that he was completely mistaken. I hadn't done it for Jim- I had done it for the girl, who I just happened to owe a favor, but doing so had gotten him in my debt anyway, which was in _my_ favor. It's always better to be the debtor than the barrower.

Jim's expression was pained "It's not easy to smuggle a guy onto a _steam _ship, yanno."

"There he is!" Came a shout from up the pier.

"Oh no, it's too late!" I exclaimed. "Jim! _Please!" _I begged, but the fish fezzes were moving faster than Jim could talk. I darted away from him, but there wasn't really long I could go before I ran out of pier and I was staring into the cold, black water. "No-no-no-no-NO!" I exclaimed, looking down. There was nowhere else to go. I can't swim. I can't swim at all!

The men slowed to a walk, aware that I was trapped. The man with the angular face pulled out to the front "Please don't run away again, young man." His voice was pleasant, like a silver stream.

Run away? I could fly, I supposed, but doing that in front of everyone was kinda a bad idea. Besides, I could feel it. My magic was pooling within me, circling around, the pressure building, just waiting to get out. No gravitation tricks for me; it was time for _big magic._

I assessed my surroundings. I was caught between the fish fezzes and the deep blue sea. The _Andrea Lucille _was docked to my right. To my left, a fishing trawler. These elements remained unchanged for a few seconds, then a crane moved above my head. Said crane had a net dangling from it. In the dark, I could see the net was fulla fish.

As young men gathered around to help the net of fish to put them on ice. The fish, though in the air and all squeezed against one another in the net, still had that slick sheen to their scales; still flopped within the net, alive. All I needed was…something big. Something that would take the attention offa me. I focused on the fish in the net and thought of them getting bigger. Bigger, and more dangerous. More dangerous because they were more intelligent.

The net ripped at the sides as hundreds of wriggling fish started to grow as well. The growth of them pushed against one another, but those near the net pushed against the woven together rope. The ropes strained against the pressure…they just needed a little help, I realized.

"Now don't be alarmed," the silver bearded man said "If you only come with us—what are you looking at?"

The net burst into blue flames, but only for a second. The flames moved in such a way as to burn the net only then died, not touching the creatures within. The net gone, the bunch of them spread out while falling. Most of them fell on top of the longshoremen, who had realized too late what was happening to flee. The lucky ones fell in the water and swam away. Some fell on the fish fezzes and one even was about to fall on me before I magically changed the course of his fall.

The pier was a mess. Longshoremen and fish fezzes struggled to get up from under a few dozen hundred merpeople who were suffocating a panicked and attacking those fleshy humans undertail with their new, very capable hands. The smart ones left the humans alone and hopped into the water, but my enemies had their hands plenty full.

I ran back up the pier, leaping over one mer-man who was strangling a fish fez. It seemed, somehow, poetically appropriate. Jim was still standing there, halfway up, his feet in a wide stance, his eyes large, his mouth hanging open. "Are those mer-mer-"

I nodded and, thinking quickly, I pointed out the man with the silver beard "He's a warlock! He's been hunting me! Now do ya see why I _have _to get outta San Francisco?!"

Jim nodded, and lead me to the gangplank, then into the hold. He found a low space where he could hole himself up and myself, then shut the door firmly. The man kept his ear by the door for a good fifteen minutes, until we felt the movement of under our feet an the sound of motors and knew the ship was sliding out. I daresay Jim was more spooked by the merpeople than I had been by the fish fezzes.

Jim felt better once the ship was moving and hopped out of the place, urging me to stay where I was. I implored him to keep an eye out for anyone wearing the felt hats. I spent an hour in a small dark hole. It did not take long for the _Andrea Lucille _to cross the water, but there was a sensitive time between loading and unloading when I was able to depart my hiding place. Finally Jim came back and ordered me to change into some work clothes. He and I walked off, he telling the others that I was his nephew he was showing the ropes.

Once back in his hometown, Jim basically told me that I was on my own, and that we were now even. He was jittery. He now believed he had not only his boss, but a powerful warlock on his bad side because he had helped me. If only he knew the powerful warlock was standing in front of him. Then again, if he knew that, he'd probably push me into the water and see if I sank.

I could have been cruel. I could have trailed him home and found his wife, and told her about Jim's discretion from months ago. Or at least I should have gotten friendly with her, and held the threat of doing just that over Jim's head. Actually, that would probably be more cruel, and would have served my purposes better. It's always good to have someone under your thumb. But I didn't. I didn't have time. I needed to get outta Oakland.

It was simple math. A great number of ships moved in and out of the Embarcadero every day, going to just about every port in the world that was friendly with the United States (and some that weren't!). But a good chunk of them went to Oakland. If I were chasing a guy, I would check out Oakland first. Not only would he be I more likely to be there than any one port in the world, it was the place that required the least amount of travel to reach as well.

I was tired. I had been running on adrenaline all this time, but being holed him in that hold(HA!) had made me go through that like a baby goes through milk. I wanted to rest, to sleep. I found my way to the train station and purchased a ticket to Fresno. Then I fell asleep at the station. By the time I woke up, the train south had left and my ticket was worthless. After getting into an argument with the ticket seller, I realized I didn't have time to haggle and bought a ticket to the next train going anywhere.

The next going anywhere went to Sacramento. In Sacramento I discovered train hopping. After observing a community of self-proclaimed hobos for a few days, I fell in with them. This way I made my way up north, but not all at once- rather in a sort of zig-zag pattern. Eventually I found myself in dirty, starving, and penniless with my hair grown out in Medford, Oregon. I learned there was a circus in town and the rest, kid, I think you can figure out on your own.

I have stopped to think. Thinking and making back up plans is really far more preferable than panicking and making mistakes. Like the mistake I made back there of burning those stocks in front of the fish fezzes, revealing myself as a warlock. For all I knew, these guys were warlock _hunters. _Actually, the more I thought about it, the more that sounded likely. There had to be some reason why they had all stalked me so much back at home and now followed me all the way here!

I have to leave Gravity Falls. I don't want to. I've fallen in love with this kooky little backwoods town. And it's not just that there's a swell girl here who says she loves me. I've grown accustomed to the faces, and the weird laws, and I'm fascinated by the monsters- both natural and of my own creation. My best friend lives here. There are a lot of differences between Gus and I, but I wouldn't give him up for anything. I love my house, draftiness and all. And then, of course, there is that _thing _under said house, which is a secret so large and so mind shattering I can't even share it with Gus. And to protect myself, I have to just…leave it all behind.

Somehow, this is going to be harder than the first time.

This time, I won't mess it up. This time, I won't leave with nothing the clothes on my back. Being broke was hard enough that I don't intend to do it again. But given that Parsifal Northwest is himself a fish fez, they know where I live. I can't just go back there and grab my money.

_Think Bill think! _

I make my way back to 618 Gopher Road the same way I moved around San Francisco that night, or the same way I traveled by train to Medford- an a roundabout, zigzagging pattern. I come to the Chateau the back way, skirting the Bottomless Pit,(I don't know why the locals call it that- it's not even bottomless!), emerge from the trees to view my back porch.

There are already two guys out back there- standing on the porch, arms crossed severely, looking about themselves, fezzes balancing on heads. Of course they're all over the place. I retreat into the trees and think to myself, making a wide circle around the Chateau.

The only thing that will get these guys to leave is if I myself appeared in front of them.

I stop as I realize that that may my solution.

I step further out into the trees. I have never made an illusion quite like this before. I walk into a clearing with good light, and stroke my beard, considering how to do this. Considering that he'll look just like me, his eyes will have to be eye level with mine. So I start with that. Two eyeballs made of light appear level with mine, irises bright blue, unblinking. I then build the rest of the face, from memory, and the hair, making sure I have the way it falls right. Of course I'd be remiss to leave off the top hat and bow tie. The rest is fairly easier: I cannot see my head no matter how hard I look, but I can see the rest of me for reference.

A second Bill M. Cipher stands in front of me, staring through me blankly. He's rather true to life, but not exactly right. The face seems a little—I'm not sure. Kinda the way a mannequin doesn't look quite like a human being. The other Bill just looks a little _too_ symmetrical; _too _flawless. I'd have to study a mirror hard to get the effect just right.

However, when I step away from him, these little flaws(or I should say, over-perfections) are not longer visible and it's like I'm looking at a doppelganger of myself.

The Other Bill is, of course, only light, and as such, cannot manipulate objects. When I pass my hand through him, his image dissolves for a few seconds before coming back together.

But he'll do. I only need him for a few minutes, which is to say, I hope he'll buy me those precious few minutes I need.

I walk, and The Other Bill follows, floating behind me, arms draping to his sides, knees bent, feet behind him. "You'll have to walk at some point," I inform him. "Normal people do, yanno." The Other Bill has no expression on his face.

I come to the edge of the trees and look out for a while before having The Other Bill step out into the clearing. This time, he walks or, at least, gives an illusion of walking. Actually, he's walking just an inch above the ground- lest his foot go through some loose pebble or a jutting root and that messes up the whole illusion. While he's shambling toward the entrance of the Gravity Falls Costume Emporium, I run back the other way, circling the Chateau.

By the time I'm in view of the front of the house, The Other Bill has been spotted. A couple of befezzed men have left the place and approached him, their palms up in a 'You can trust us' gesture. Yeah right! I almost feel sorry for the illusion, but he doesn't have the ability to think or feel sorry for himself, so I don't.

I focus on what is in front of me- the front part of the house. I stare up into the triangle window from behind a tree for a while, trying to see if anyone is there. How many times have I looked through that triangle, feeling like I was king of my own domain? Not enough; that's for sure!

This is going to be somewhat difficult. I don't make jumps _this _far very often; excluding, of course, that awful morning when I didn't have my amulet. There is a whitish/bluish flash as I blink out of one place. I can't avoid this. I can only hope the fish fezzes are too distracted by my doppelganger to take notice of it.

I flash back into the attic room; my personal space. I get to work right away. I go to the closet and pull out a knap sack. I proceed to stuff it with various useful items- clothes, a knife, a frying pan, money. I have to make sort of a compromise between moving quickly and moving quietly. I guess I've been moving more quickly than quietly because someone _has _taken notice of me. A hear a squeal of hinges as the door is pushed in.

I grab my bag and swing it over my shoulder. I'm ready to move! Whether I'm going to have to flash out or take the offence, I'm game. I turn around and almost drop my bag in shock.

The man in the doorways is short and squat, and pale, with thinning, combed back black hair. His face is round and mustachioed. Like the others, he wears a fish fez at a jaunty angle.

I take a step back "P-Pops! What are you doing here?" My mind races, unable to comprehend this new wrinkle, but I notice that one detail.

"You're one of them!" I cry in alarm, pointing at his hat "You're a fish fez!"

My Pops removes his fez, almost apologetically, and looks down at it wistfully. "Yes, it's true. I am a member of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel." He dons his fez again. Since I've seen him, he looks older- the lines in his face more deeply etched. The look his gives me is some species of regret. "Bill, there is so much I need to tell you."


	17. Seventeen: All Seeing Eye of Mischief

He talks me into me to going downstairs, but only if he goes first. He's surprised when I let him know I don't trust him to walk behind me. More than that. Shocked. Hurt. But he goes on ahead, and I follow.

Once at the bottom of the steps we take a turn into a sort of living room area, where I have some furniture set up I made from extra timbers. One of these walls is kind of a cobblestone affair- stones from right below me set in a binding agent of sand and mortar. Took me a while to figure out how to get it to set without magic, but once I did, the effect is, I dare say, prit-y keen.

Right. Enough bragging about this swanky place, more of what's going on at the present. The living room looks pretty much the same as it always does, but for the addition of a few older men in formal attire. They stand and talk amongst themselves, only nodding when Pops comes through the door. Then I follow and it's a whole different story.

"The Cipher boy!"

"William!" Then this man addresses Pops "Is that really him?"

Pops nods "He's ready to talk, now."

Ready to talk? Well I'm ready for something. I have a pretty calm exterior, but my mind is all in fight-or-flight mode. I hate just being here, surrounded by my enemies, and not doing anything about it. A part of me keeps expecting to be jumped from behind.

Instead of letting on, though, I say "I didn't realize ya guys were such big fans," I smirk "autograph? That'll be two dollars per."

"Billy!" Gus approaches me from the kitchen which, at this time, is on my left. "Billy, I'm sorry! They came to the costume shop looking for you. I tried to tell them you were stuck in town square, but they wouldn't leave! They invited themselves in. Billy, who are these guys?"

Gus's brow is furrowed from worry, his lips pulled back in an uncomfortable way. Even _he _knowsthat the Holy Order of the Royal Haddock of whatever these guys are is bad news. But I ruffle his hair and smile in a relaxed way, and lead him up the hall so there we have the barest amount of privacy from the fish fezzes. Of course, there's still a guy in the hallway, his eye on us, so we keep out voices to a low whisper.

I put on a cool demeanor. I'm a fairly good actor, even in situations like this. Some people call it lying, I call it a _skill_. "Honestly?" I say to Gus's question "I have no idea."

"Billy, what do they want from you?"

"If I don't know who they _are, _then how do ya expect me to know what they _want?" _

"Billy, I'm worried about this!"

"I can see that." I point out "Don't worry, kid! They won't bother ya- I'm not gonna let that happen!"

"Clearly it's you they're interested in," Gus interjects.

_Very true. _"I'll be just fine, kid! I'm just gonna hear them out, savvy?"

We gather in the living room- myself, Gus and the fish fezzes. Pulled out to the middle of the room, I have a table that sits up to five people comfortably. The fish fezzes have already decided to put Northwest, Pops, and the man with the silver beard at three of these seats, and one seat is left for me. The others are around the room, standing. Not content with this setup, I grab a crate from the other side of the room and put my ass on this while directing Gus to the last chair. Northwest looks between us.

"That's alright, Mr. Gleeful. This meeting has to do with nothing to concern you. Why don't you get some fresh air and come back?"

Gus casts a nervous glance at me. He's worried about leaving me alone with these guys, I can tell. And to tell the truth, I want him here. It's not like he'll be much help if the situation goes belly up. In fact, quite the opposite- he may be a liability in a fight. But it's a good idea to have a witness to whatever is going to go down next. _Especially _with Northwest here, who can tell townspeople pretty much anything and they're guaranteed to believe him. Gus has as little clout in Gravity Falls as I do, but at least it will be good to have him on my side.

I put an arm around Gus's shoulders and pull him uncomfortably close "Gus and I are two sides of the same coin. Anything good enough for my ears are good enough for this guy's."

The men exchange glances, and Pops leans across the table "Bill, this talk is going to become rather personal."

I cast him a fake pleasant smile. I'm still furious with him for being in league with my enemies "It's okay, Pops. I don't have any secrets from Gus Gleeful." I say pleasantly.

His eyes widen and he looks between Gus and me "None at all?"

"_None."_ I say firmly. I know I'm taking a big risk, but I cross my arms and say "We are talking about warlocks, right?" I believe we are. What other secret of mine could Pops wish to hide from Gus? If they don't already know about my magic (which is unlikely given the trick I pulled when I saw Northwest and his buddies and panicked) then they'll probably think I'm making up some malarkey, which would be fine. Appearing to be too mad or too stupid to understand a situation is often a good tactic to hide in plain sight from your enemies.

The man with the silver beard says "True, William. We want to speak to you about your abilities."

I let out a breath. "Okay. In that case-" I snap my fingers and the crate under me ceases to exist in that space, reappearing on the other side of the room. I stay where I am, floating in space. I cross my legs under me, sitting Indian style. Gasps go up from the men around the room.

I take this moment to study them. There are over a dozen fish fezzes in total- so many to make the living room even hotter and muggier than it usually is. I myself don't really mind the heat- never have- but I see others dabbing their foreheads with handkerchiefs or fanning themselves with their hands. These men range from late twenties to early seventies. I notice Caucasian but also Native American features in the group. All of them are in various modes of dress, though all have dressed up by their own means. By this I mean to say that they appear to come from all economic brackets, from my working class pops in decade old topcoat to Mr. Northwest in the most in-the-mode style.

You can also kinda tell who comes from a wealthy family and who doesn't by the way they stand. Those who come from old money stand up straight but uncomfortable, dabbing their foreheads only once in a while, looking slightly annoyed but otherwise proper. The men who are more like myself slouch and lean against the cool stone walls, actively fanning themselves.

There's one face I recognize. Well, two faces, but they're so similar that they might as well be one face twice: Dagwood and Roderick Pines. I want to glare holes into them. _They're in the fruity fish club too?_

I smirk at those who gasp and lean back in the air "What'samatta with _you_ guys? Never seen a fella float before?"

I'm terrified at this point. The fezzes know all about my powers. That means they know what I'm capable of. If I have to escape, will I be able to? But I can't let them see me sweat. I'm considering playing stupid- though this will be pretty hard with Pops here. Hopefully he will shut his trap if he catches on to what I'm doing.

No one at the table was shocked or surprised when I showed off my abilities. Gus looks more confused than scared at the moment, but more about what's being said than what I'm doing. Pops gets that annoyed, pained face that he always gets when I show off my magic. Northwest is seething. The man with the silver beard looks around the table at my airborne butt with a curious, studying look on his face. He is the first one to speak.

"Well, William, I see that you are well practiced in-"

I raise a finger to silence him "You're in my house." I state evenly "The fact that I don't really want you here and the fact that you invited yourselves are both beside the point. Since you _are_ in my house, you will follow _my _rules." The silver bearded man looks surprised, perhaps a little apprehensive about what I'm about to say. Good. I want him on his toes. "It's _Bill _or _Billy, _not William."

The silver bearded man inclines his head politely "Please excuse me, Bill. My apologies." He's incredibly polite, and I can't tell whether he's putting on airs or not. That makes him dangerous. "Now that I think of it, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Robert-" his last name is a V and then some cluster of consonants all mushed together and a few vowels I had never known a human was capable of uttering. He sees Gus trying to wrap his mouth around this word, so he quickly interjects "but you can call me Robert V."

"As I was saying," Mr. V goes on "I see that you are quite proficient using those powers."

I sigh "Are ya going to sit there all day, trying to butter me up, or are ya going to explain why you've been chasing me?" I don't really raise my voice, but it's cleared I'm annoyed at the very least.

"We didn't chase you," someone else in the room speaks up. I recognize the youngish man from a year ago at _The Dapper Eye_. He's wearing his hair in a different style now, and his face is a little fatter, but I don't forget faces. "That is, not until you ran."

"I know, right! I mean, how rude was I for running! I had every reason to trust ya!" I say sarcastically "I mean, you guys were all stalking me the whole week before! Only _truly _trustworthy people do that!"

The man opens his mouth to argue, but Mr. V puts a hand into the air, silencing him "I'm sorry we spooked you, Bill. We had wished to observe you before contacting you, but as we had nothing to hide from you, it was a conscious decision not to be discreet with you. We believed that _he_ would be offended if he realized we were trying to hide from him."

I narrow my eyes "You believed _who _would be insulted?" I cock my head as I ask this. Pops? Had they been spying on him as well back then?

Someone coughs uncomfortably. Mr. V says "Right. You know next to nothing about your condition." He pulls a book out of his inside coat pocket.

I lean back, as if to get a wider view of him. Is this guy for real? I take in the faces surrounding me. Each one is, in turn, examining my face. Checking out the minute movements of the eyes and the mouth for the slightest clue of what I'm thinking. Once again, I'm the center of a show. "What condition?" I snort with contempt. I have a hunch something I don't like is going to happen, and I refuse to let the fish fezzes see me sweat before it does. And after too.

Mr. V nods "How was it your father explained your powers to you? He told you that you were a witch, did he not?"

"Warlock," I automatically correct him, still glaring in a surly matter.

Mr. V just nods, puts his book on the table, and starts to flip through it. It's an old book, with a dark green, animal skin cover with silver clasps. I drum my index, middle and pinky fingers on the table to an imagined drum beat, looking to the world bored and annoyed with the whole affair. In truth, I wish that Mr. V would just start talking already. Is he implying that I'm _not _a warlock? If I'm not, Pops didn't exactly lie, because neither of us really knew the proper thing to call me, "warlock" seemed like the best bet. But why call my powers a _condition?_ They don't make me sick. We'll, there was that time this winter, but I keep my amulet on all the time now! And anyway, do the fish fezzes care about that?

They probably _are_ witch hunters. But if that's the case, why invite me to talk? Why not tie me up and throw me in the nearest river now? Maybe they want to weaken me so that they can grab me without me fighting them. I make a mental note not to accept any food or drink from these guys. But the biggest question of all: why is my Pops one of them!?

Mr. V clears his throat "I suppose before we talk about you, Bill, we should talk about ourselves." He has found the page in the book that he wants, and he pushes it over the to me. The page shows an image of an emblem of sorts. This one depicts a crown and a canoe, with the head of an Egyptian sarcophagus between them. Three stars appear over the crown.

Mr. V narrates "What you are looking at is the seal of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel. Our order was- er, _yes, _Bill?"

He's stopped talking because I have raised my hand. I lower said hand "Yeah," I say "if you're the order of the mackerel, then how come your emblem ain't a fish?"

"It is only a name. It does not denote our purpose."

I sink a couple of inches in the air as if disappointed "Oh." Then "So wait. You don't worship a magic fish?"

"No. No we don't." Mr. V's face remains neutral.

"Then what the heck is your club _for?!"_ I ask, appalled.

"Well, Bill," Mr. V says calmly "if you hadn't interrupted me, I would have gotten to that part by now."

"Oh…" I slump without losing altitude and let him utter some more words. I hazard a look at Pops. _He_ knows what game I'm playing. He has to. I've played the same trick on him so many times he grew wise to it. Strangely enough, Pops doesn't look angry at my antics as much as worried. But why is he worried- for my sake dealing with the Royal Order, or for their sake dealing with me?

"The Order was founded long ago, before our country was even a sovereign nation. You see, as pioneers pierced into the then unknown wilderness of the new continent, they discovered fantastic new sights and creatures, but also a number of _things_ that were potentially dangerous to the people of a fledgling country. The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel was founded in order to preserve the balance between the settlers, the creatures, and the _other._"

I raise an eyebrow "The _other?"_

"Unexplained phenomena. True bottomless pits. Cursed doors. Portals to other worlds."

This last one has my attention, though my expression does not change from one of boredom and annoyance. For that thing I found underneath my house? It's a portal. A one way doorway leading from another world. Don't ask me how I know what it is- I just knew it as soon as a saw it the first time. It's probably the way the gnomes and the manotaurs got to Gravity Falls in the first place. There had been no activity from it since I've lived at 618 Gopher Road, but I wait, and if ever someone or something comes through, I'll be there, waiting, to ask a helluva lotta questions.

I glance at Mr. V, then at some of the other Mackerels. Do they know about the portal that is literally under their feet? Their faces show no sign either way. What about Northwest? He's lived here all his life. The Pines? They know a lot of Gravity Falls's secrets.

Unable to tell by looking at them what they're thinking right now, I tilt my head back and let out a long, hearty laugh "Ah man, why was I ever worried about of _you _guys? Bottomless pits? Portals? Okay, guys, I think you've been reading too many cartoons!"

Mr. V exchanges glances with Northwest, then speaks "Indeed, many very informed Mackerels believe that there's a portal right near this geographical location."

"Oh yeah? Then where's it at, smart guy?" I shoot back, deflecting attention from myself.

Mr. V shrugs. I can't tell if it's an honest shrug or not. He says "Perhaps _you _can help us shed some light on this, Bill."

"Me?" I laugh some more. My heart is racing. Angrily I think _I'd sooner invite ya to dance on my grave than show you where the portal is! _"And how do ya expect me to do that?" I motion to Roderick and Dagwood. They have a tendency of standing together. "Those guys know all the weird stuff about Gravity Falls. Ask them where your portal thingy is."

"And we'd tell," Roderick speaks up "if we knew. Believe you me, Daggy and I have been looking for the portal ever since we became Mackerels," he seems very enthusiastic and keeps going "if it were ever found, we would be the first ones to seal it up."

"Seal it up?" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"Yes, Mr. Cipher," Northwest says to me, biting on his words "those creatures belong in their own world- not ours." He looks me in the eyes as he says this "The more that come through, the more their numbers swell, the more dangerous for the general population of Gravity Falls- or anyone else passing just through, for that matter! Finding that portal, sending the monsters back and sealing it for good is just one of the most important goals for the Pines and I."

I feel a bit ill after Northwest's little speech. He talks with such barely constrained hatred. I know that he wants to force me into this portal along with those sweaty manotaurs. Guess I can't get much further away from his daughter than an alien world. Well, the joke's on him. He doesn't know the portal only works one way. The gnomes and manotaurs are stuck on this side, which means so am I.

Gus speaks up next to me. He's been so quiet all along- just sort of observing everyone else, and I kinda forgot he was there "What a minute. The monsters- are you saying that _manotaurs are from another world?_"

He's floored by this notion. I feel bad for him, being so far behind the pendulum swing. Mr. V, too, only now notices he's there. He clears his throat "Indeed, young man, manotaurs are not natural for this world. A number of creatures in Gravity Falls aren't," he gives me a meaningful look "more so now than before."

_He knows. _No point in denying it. "I see Parsy told ya about Multi-Bear! Pretty swell fella, isn't he? Yanno, for a bear."

Pops sighs, aghast "Bill, I didn't believe it was true when they told me! You created a monster? You've _played God _here?" He leans forward and grabs my arm desperately. His eyes dart back and forth, searching both of mine.

I shrug and pull away. If it had been anyone else, I would have come up with a snappy comeback, like 'God wouldn't create something _that _ugly- I musta been playing devil!' but it's my father, and he looks really, _really _disappointed in me. For the first time since creating Multi-Bear, I feel bad about it. What was I _thinking _fusing all those bears together to make something that amused me? It was one thing that Multi-Bear helped us with the drunken manotaurs when we needed him, but why did I leave those eight bears as Multi-Bear?

_'I am an abomination- a being which should not exist!'_ Even the Multi-Bear himself thinks he's a sin against nature. Who am I to say he's wrong?

"Indeed," Mr. V makes his voice sharp without making it loud. This gets everyone's attention "the order will now have to keep an eye on this Multi-Bear, as you term it, Billy. But that's not our focus right now." He folds his hands on the table "I was discussing the history of the Royal Order. Our forefathers discovered secrets in this nation that needed to remain hidden from the general public, so the Royal Order was founded."

"You say _Royal _Order," I point out "what makes your silly little club so royal?"

Northwest ruffles at this jab and I'm glad, but I keep my body pointed at Mr. V. The silver bearded man says "It was founded under decree of King George the III of England."

Okay, now I really _am _having a hard time believing these guys! I laugh "You expect me to buy that?" Mr. V and Northwest exchange glances. They can't be serious, can they? Why would a dead king have cared about some monsters in the American wilderness? Hadn't king George kinda had his hands too full keeping the colonies from separating to found any clubs? It doesn't make sense- that's for sure. Still laughing, I go on "And what is the mackerel thing, and why is it so holy?"

"Ah," Mr. V says "well that part of the name refers to something entirely different than fish. Not any of your worry, Bill."

I straighten my posture and lean on the table, the palms of my hands flat on said table. "Wait a minute! You invite yourself come into _my_ house, you _insist _on telling me this dumb story, and you don't even have the _decency_ of telling me the juicy parts?"

Mr. V's expression is unreadable, and he turns his palms to the ceiling "You must understand, Bill, there are some secrets which I am bound by a strict code of laws and ethics, passed down to me from a long line of Mackerels, to keep. If I were to tell you our most sensitive information, all these men would deny the validity of my claims fervently, and then they would conspire to fabricate evidence against me for a high crime and have me put in prison. I see your smirk, Bill, but I'm serious. There are certain things that I absolutely _cannot _tell you."

I shake my head; that smirk hasn't left my face "That's a lot of trouble to go to protect a fish."

"As I was saying-"

But I plow on, acting as if I never heard him. "Mackerel," I say to myself "well, the mackerel fish was holy to the Romans. And it is a pagan symbol of fertility and abundance. In which case, the Holy Mackerel might refer to something that there's a lot of. Going by your story, does this refer to the newly discovered American continent, and its abundance of resources? So when you refer to the Holy Mackerel, you're talking about America itself."

Mr. V opens his mouth but I don't like him talk "Alternatively, it could be a code of some sort. Maybe an anagram! The letters in 'Holy Mackerel' can be rearranged a number of ways, most of which don't make much sense. But a few that do are "Early Hemlock" and "Elk or alchemy". Now you could go down a number of roads with both of these. But I don't believe you use the cover of a fish to hide the fact that you actually worship a tree. But if you guys were alchemists, I can see you wanting to hide that. Personally I think you might be screwy enough to _believe _that garbage, given what you've been telling me! Or," I say with a shrug "maybe you're just in the Elks Club. Maybe this whole Mackerel business is just some weird rite of the elks."

Mr. V smiles as me "You are an intelligent young man, Bill."

I stop another spiel from coming out of my throat and swallow it. _Damn. _I got so caught up in solving this mystery of the last word of their name that I forgot that I was supposed to be playing a sap. I cross my arms and float a few inches away from the table. "Yeah, well…it's still a dumb name."

"May I go on now?"

"You're gonna anyway." I say, looking sulkily at a knot on the table. Kinda looks like an eye, which is the reason I put that particular board in the middle. It's swell. It's like it's staring at all the people in the room.

"_As I was saying," _Mr V. sounded, perhaps, a little weary "the order was founded to keep balance and protect humans from monsters. Especially Triangulum."

My ears perk at the last word. _Triangle? The latin word for triangle? These guys are afraid of…a shape?_

It's not that I think it's wrong to have passionate feelings about geometry. I myself am an admirer of that that three sided shape. Anyone who steps foot in my house can see that! Even my stage costume incorporates the striking symbol. And I have shapes I dislike too. But that's the thing. I'm unique in this regard. Or at least, I thought I was. No one else in the world gives a damn about triangles and quadrilaterals, except maybe geometry professors, and their opinions don't matter.

Triangulum must refer to something else. "So ah," I say "wanna explain what a triangulunk is?"

Mr. V points to the book that he's slid in front of me "Why don't you flip back three pages back in that book?" My eyes are drawn back to the bound paper. I take notice of the emblem of the order and realize that I missed a chance to further annoy Mr. V by asking about the various symbols that make up the emblem. Damnit. I'm hoping that, if I annoy this guy too much, he'll accidentally reveal something he's not supposed to. But now that my ruse has been partially blown apart, it's hard for me to ask these questions and sound ignorant at the same time.

I almost flip back four pages, but the image on the third page makes me stop mid flip and put the paper right back flat on the book. It's a simple device, really. There is a triangle, about two and a half inches wide and tall. The body of the triangle is filled in with gold leaf- real gold- which gives me the idea that the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel must have some wealth, or at least they did at the time this book was printed. The triangle is filled in with gold except for a long oval near the top that touches two sides which is painted white. Bisecting the triangle and oval is a thick black line. Where it bisects the oval, the oval gives the impression of a slitted pupil, like a cat's eye.

_He's a very handsome triangle._

Why did I just think that? _It's__ a very handsome triangle._

Gus, who has been quiet all this time, peers over my shoulder. He's seen my reaction to the image which, I'm afraid to say, wasn't neutral. The truth is, the triangle image surprised me, because I've seen it before. Very recently, in fact. Gus has see it too, and that's exactly the reason I don't want him to look at the book now. I try to move it away from him, but he spots the device before I can close the book.

"Billy! That's your window!"

I grimace, but manage to turn the grimace into a grin. I turn the grin to him. He's guileless as he stares at the image "This is so weird!" He goes on.

He's absolutely right, though. I've got this very pattern in the center of one of those stain glass windows Gus's pops helped me with. This particular window brightens up Gus's studio, with its rectangles and triangles arranged in various shades of red, purple and yellow.

"Indeed," Mr. V says "Northwest and I have been admiring your carpentry, Bill."

I turn my face to him "Is that what you usually do when you break into other people's houses without their permission? Look at their windows?"

"Ah, but Bill, your windows give us so much to talk about. Besides, didn't you install them so that others could look at them?"

"Maybe I had them installed _I_ liked them. What a novel idea, huh!" I snap angrily.

"Bill, please calm down," it's Pops who speaks "we're all trying to tell you something important."

I swallow a bitter retort and cross my arms, sinking maybe two inches in the air as I slump. Pops hates it when I slouch in my seat so at least there's that. "By all means, go on." My voice is dripping with acid.

"Triangulum is just one of many names we use to refer to this creature." Mr. V says "his true name, if he does have one, is unknown, but the name Triangulum seems to have some small measure of power over him. He's a manipulative demon that usually resides in peoples' subconsciousnesses. He's also referred to as The Abstract, the Holy Isosceles, The Master of the Mind, and the All Seeing Eye of Mischief."

Both Gus's and my own heads shoot up at this "Mischief?" We both say at once.

"Yes…yes Bill." Pops says. His expressions is- I think- sad?

I glance back down at the golden image in the book. "No wait. Isn't this the All Seeing Eye of _Providence_?" There's no point in trying to pretend to be an idiot anymore. Besides, I'm genuinely curious at this point. Demons are kinda fascinating, and to have one appear in my window is actually an exciting prospect. Of course, it's possible these Mackerel guys are just nuts and don't know the difference between reality and their own warped little story. But I've seen giant gnomes and I've created a sea monster, so I could discount the existence of demons.

"No!" Is the answer I get to my question, spoken passionately- almost yelled, really- by a number of Mackerels.

"Triangulum is a trickster. He mimics the Eye of Providence, and tricks the gullible into believing that he is the same, further vilifying that symbol in the eyes of many. Indeed, in many ways, Triangulum is the Eye of Providence's foil and opposite. He watches and he has knowledge of many things, but benevolent he is not."

I roll my eyes "Oh come on. He's a shape! How bad can he really be?"

"Triangulum abides on a higher place of existence," Mr. V says, "When he is at his most powerful, our reality is but a game to him, and us humans and the places in this world only pawns for him to move about at will. For longer than the Order has existed, those who knew of the demon have been in a power struggle with him. All the peoples that lived on this continent had their own ways of keeping him out of reality. But realities intersect with others in many places, such as in dreams. Through the portal of dreams, the demon may access human minds, and change them. Once affected by the demon, those very humans are easily puppeted into filling Triangulum's wishes, such as granting him his freedom."

"So, let me get this straight. This triangle guy," I point to the page "he's omnipotent. Except for when he's banished away. But even when he's banished away, he can control people through their dreams?" I laugh "Okay guys, just checking to see if your story _really _sounded as dumb as I thought it did! Go on- _go on!_"

Mr. V glares at me, then clears his throat. "It's not that people did not have ways of protecting their own minds. The Ojibwe people learned that, when a spider makes a web over a sleeping child, the dream demon is unable to invade that child's dream. Eventually the humans starting making their own webs, or dream-catchers. And of course the Navajo discovered that turquoise blocked the demon from using his powers on them."

My ears perk at the word "turquoise". Still keeping my expression amused but mostly annoyed, my hand shoots to my chest. Instinctively, I feel for my amulet. No one notices this action except for one pair of eyes: my father's. My eyes meet his and, for a few moments, there is some silent communication between us. He looks heartbroken. I myself am starting to feel a little uneasy. This conversation is going in a weird direction. I break eye contact with him and put my elbow on the table. I cup my chin in my hand, looking as bored as a kid in church.

"Billy!" Gus exclaims "You have some turquoise. Maybe they're asking you to use it against the demon!"

Poor, sweet, ignorant Gus. I lean back in the air "Sorry guys, but the amulet is _mine_. Like my hat, inseparable."

"That's probably for the best, Bill." Mr. V says "Bill, do you understand so far?"

I wave my fingers around in a distracted fashion "Evil triangle, messes up people's dreams. Got it."

Mr. V gets back to his story "Well, as I was saying, we knew how to banish him outside of our reality, but he was still able to manipulate people through his dreams. Then in the last century, the prophet Sir Lord Quentin Trembley III, Esquire, devised a way of trapping the demon _within _this plane of existence, taking away his reality warping powers."

But I'm caught up on the name "Trembley…is that any relation to Mabel Trembley?"

Gus, Northwest and the Pines all give me dirty looks. Talking about the current Gnome Queen is absolutely not allowed. When Mabel went off to be with the gnomes, she might as well have been wiped from people's memories. But that's bullshit. Mabel was- is! a real person who sacrificed herself for this town. She deserves better than what she's getting from them. Heck, how about instead of a statue of dear old Grandpa Nathaniel, Northwest puts up a statue of Mabel? After all, it would have been _his_ daughter who was ready to agree to the gnomes' proposal if Mabel hadn't volunteered. No. I won't just forget about Mabel. Fuck you all.

But Northwest clears his throat "Yes, Mr. Cipher. Mabel was the direct descendant of Quentin Trembley, by his only human wife."

I blink at the 'only human wife' thing, but I have a hunch that I really I don't want to know. "So Trembley was a prophet? He could see the future and all?"

"Among other things," Northwest looks uncomfortable as he says this.

Mr. V jumps in "The bulk of which you'll hopefully never know," he said "moving on-"

I ask, finding my flow again "Is this one of those 'your own club will frame you of murder if you say' kinda things?"

Mr. V smiles "Oh no- the Order isn't concerned with keeping Trembey's secrets. But it's still dangerous information to possess anyway. Your life is already so complicated, Bill, there's no need for us to add the threat of your being hunted down and locked away because you know too much."

If he's trying to get me to stop wondering about Trembley, he's doing a horrible job. _Really? _Hunted down and locked away? Just because I know who Trembley is, or what he did, or whatever? Now I just want to know about this guy _more. _What did he do that was so bad?

"Complicated?" I shrug expressively "Nah, my life's great! I live in a beautiful place, I've got my best pal," I say, ruffling Gus's hair "my own show, a goat, my own business- life couldn't get much better!"

"I'm glad you feel that way, Bill," Mr. V says, sounding genuine. "Well, the Order did not need to deal with Triangulum for almost fifty years after Trembley disappeared, but finally in 1911 the demon came back to the real world. So following the instructions laid down by Trembley, the Mackerels- including myself, Parsifal, and many in this room," he takes off his small glasses and looks me in the eye. He's pausing unnecessarily. I have so had enough of this guy. His expression is unreadable, "trapped the demon inside of an unborn child."

A bolt of electricity goes through me, setting my nerves on fire. As is the case with adrenaline, I am more aware of the sights and sounds around me. I try my damnedest to keep my external composure but it's not easy. _They're not- they're not! They're not suggesting what I think they're suggesting…? _Are they?

Luckily face has retained its slack expression. My mind races behind the veneer.

_He acts like I'm not a warlock…_

_The All Seeing Eye of Mischief._

_'Yeah, my middle name is Mischief…My old lady claimed a demon in a dream told her to give me that name! Pretty whacky, huh?'_

_Turquoise blocks the demon from using his powers._

_Turquoise blocks my powers somewhat. When I take it off, I feel like I'm trapped. Trapped within my own body…_

_And this demon, this triangle guy-_

_He got trapped inside an unborn child?_

_In 1911?_

_The year I was born in!?_

I look down at my hands, as if noticing them for the first time _Am I __supposed __to be Bill Cipher?_


	18. Eighteen: American Demon

My heart is hammering my ears so loud I can hardly think. The Mackerels are still watching me, still trying to see if I'm breaking a sweat. I _won't _let them know what I'm thinking. I laugh out loud "That was a dumb idea!"

Mr. V cocks his head. He's studying my expression, curious "Oh? And why do you say that, Bill?"

I can feel every eye in the room on me like a physical weight. Dozens of eyes stare down at me like I'm a little bug on a slide, waiting to see what I'm going to do next. I realize that they're not looking at some kid living with his pal in some backwoods town. Or at least, in their minds, that's not what they're looking at. They're looking at- well- their true enemy. The demon Triangulum, brought back down to earth and stowed away in a nice, fleshy box. I'm an anomaly to them- something which hasn't existed before. So the allusion to scientists isn't that far off. I'm not a little bug on a slide- I'm a little bug from another universe on a slide. They want to see how I tick.

I look at Gus. Gus is my rock. When I was having such a hard time because I didn't have my amulet, Gus kept me calm. Gus helped me stay on earth. And, ultimately, he was the one who put an end to my demonic episode. He's my solid ground when my head is lost in the clouds. I need to know what he's thinking right now. And unfortunately, it's not good. His pale blue eyes are wide, scared, horrified at the idea that his friend might be a demon.

I realize that I've been holding my breath for long enough to make me feel a little uncomfortable, so I let a breath go. It rattles. Calm people don't have rattling breaths. Keeping up this illusion of nonchalance is becoming more impossible by the second. Worse, I cannot think of any clever comebacks to the gentleman.

I let the magic go, putting my feet on the ground. The wooden slats under my feet are solid. They push against me. They way they do this is reassuring. I put my hands on the table, which braces me further. I look into Mr. V's purple eyes.

"So…I'm a demon?"

Though I say it quietly, the question carries around the room. No one laughs or even chortles or makes a move to correct me. It occurs to me after the fact that this could all be an elaborate joke- something Northwest threw together to try to scare me. But if it's a joke, then it's a joke that's been in the making since before I even knew Ricky! In fact, if the Mackerels hadn't chased me outta San Fran in the first place, I absolutely never would have even come here and gotten to know her!

It's not a joke. To the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, me being a demon is serious business. Mr. V, for once, is not smiling down at me in a condescending manner. He looks concerned when he says "That's not the way it is, Bill. You're not Triangulum. If it's possible, think of yourself as a cage, and the demon is locked securely inside."

"Oh." And I know, with absolute certainty, that this is not the case. Bill Cipher I am, but I'm a demon too. As much as I poked fun at his story, the things Mr. V talked about made a lotta sense to me. When I was a kid, I used to feel like I was older than my parents, so they didn't have a right to tell me what to do. Even after I outgrew that, I've always felt basically, intrinsically different from other people. Above them. It's not exactly narcissism- I honestly believe that other people just aren't _important. _Not the way I am.

But there are other, littler things. It's not normal or okay for a human being to like to control others, but this is what a demon is all about. I've never really been bothered by the heat and complain loudly when it's cold. And it's probably why I don't dream- after all, why would a dream demon need to have dreams of his own, anyway? It probably explains why I knew not to trust anyone wearing the fish symbol without even knowing what the fish symbol was: the Mackerels are my longtime enemies. Some part of me probably remembers being banished or something.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding "Well, that explains a lot." Demon not warlock. I told Ricky that I didn't know for sure what I was, but when I figured out for sure, I'd start using that word. Well, now I know for sure. It's not so bad, being a demon. I've been all my life, haven't I? Longer, even. And, from experience I know that salt doesn't harm me. I wonder idly if holy water does.

There's something I have to know, though. When I first saw my Pops today, he was wearing that cap with the fish symbol on it. In all the time I've known him, I've never known him to wear said hat. So where did Pops get it and, more importantly, how long has he had it?

"Did ya know about this?" I ask him point blank.

Pops is not surprised, but his tired looking face looks even more tired "I knew, Bill."

"F-for how long?"

Pops look away, like he can't bare to see me. "I've been a member of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel for a very long time, Bill. For longer than you've been alive."

I purse my lips "Which means what, exactly?"

He sighs painfully. It's hard for him to go on but- damn it! I'm _owed _this! I've been lied to- for possibly my whole life! I don't let up. I don't give him a break. I stare him down. He's _going _to tell me.

"I think what your father is trying to say," Mr. V has come around the table, and he is standing next to me "is that it was he and your mother who volunteered you to house the demon's soul, all those years ago."

My eyes are wide and I turn on a heel to look at Mr. V "They- _volunteered? _But-" I shake my head "you guys didn't force them at gunpoint him or-?"

Mr. V shakes his head "Dan didn't realize the potential dangers of the ritual. _None of us _did. He didn't know it would cause you're poor mother to-"

But he's interrupted when my Pops stands up "It wasn't her idea, Bill. If you know anything at all, you _must _understand that. _I_ was the one who talked her into it. That is my one regret."

I wet my lips, which are dry at this moment "I don't understand. What happened to my old lady?"

"She went mad," Mr. V said "hid it well, but the demon had altered her mind. She wanted to help him escape."

"That's why she stole your amulet," Pops says, pointing to my chest. Instinctively, I reach for it. I rub it through the fabric of my shirt. Pops and Mr. V suddenly jump away from me, because small red flames are coming from my fingers. That is, they start at my fingers, but they move on to envelope my hands, and then my arms. Then, in front of everyone, I'm enveloped in a firey red aura.

I scowl at Pops, who has moved to the other side of a table shaped pile of ash. Said pile of ash used to be a table we had all been speaking at before, but I have just made short work of it.

"You lied to me!" I yell.

Pops shakes his head and looks at me sadly "I had to, Bill. I couldn't let you know what you were."

"Why not? I've been living a lie this whole time!"

"Bill, I only wanted the best for you."

"You only ever wanted me to be normal! But it wasn't my fault I was a freak in the first place! It was yours!"

I'm so angry right now that I can barely separate one thought from another. I thought I was handling this new information pretty well. But to know that my Pops- my _father, _has been lying to me the whole time- that kinda crushes the camel! I just think about every time I looked at him, every time we talked together. He knew what I really was and he didn't have the decency to tell me! What a hypocrite he was to tell me to forget magic! That's like if someone stabs you and tells you not to bleed! On top of that is this thing they're implying about my old lady…

I did NOT make my mother go insane! I would never make a person go insane!

* * *

Like Billy, Gus was distrusting of these men who called themselves Mackerels. They had, after all, invaded his home and refused to leave. But, like Billy, he had eventually sat down and listened to their story. It wasn't like the boys had had much of a choice. The Mackerels were rather vehement.

Shamefully enough, Gus found himself enthralled by the history of this secret society. Gus had heard of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel before, but he didn't know what the group did, or why. As with any order that kept its purpose a secret, there were people who came up with conspiracy theories about them. The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel secretly controlled the president, or they were a group of Satan worshippers. Basically the same thing they said about the Freemasons, but not as much because the Royal Order wasn't as well known.

To hear Mr. V's tale- even this very abridged version- of the society's formation and purpose was fascinating. Having grown up in Gravity Falls, the strangeness of the town was normal to Gus, and yet he knew his home was unique. To hear that other places in the United States had secrets of their own was mind blowing. Then when it got to the part about the portal, Gus was enthralled. He had never considered that the manotaurs and the other creatures of the forest had come from _another realm of existence entirely. _And yet when he heard that the door only worked one way, for the first time in his life, Gus felt pity for a manotaur. Imagine being lost so far from home, with no way to return.

But of course the most interesting part of the conversation was the part about the demon that the club had been formed almost primarily to vanquish. The fact that Billy had had a window that looked like the demon's mark made was a wonderful coincidence. Gus felt a thrill of excitement when he heard that turquoise had power over the beast.

Why didn't Billy seem to care? The magician continued asking about little details and diverting the story. And while Gus had never known that one of Mabel Trembley's ancestors had been a prophet, he felt uncomfortable talking about that whole family. He didn't want to think about Mabel and whatever the gnomes were doing to her at the moment. He preferred to act she didn't exist. Out of sight, out of mind.

"So following the instructions laid down by Trembley, the Mackerels- including myself, Parsifal, and many in this room trapped the demon inside of an unborn child." Mr. V said. After this statement, the room became very quiet. The Mackerels had been quiet before, but now it was like the air had been sucked out of the room, and the men had stopped breathing to adapt to this change.

Gus didn't get it. This thing happened way back in 1911, so why were the Mackerels acting shocked now? The boy did the math in his head. 1911? Whoever that kid was, he would be eighteen right now.

Eighteen…

Gus happened to look at Billy who, at this moment, was still staring at a knot in the wooden table. Where the boy had been joking and questioning the Mr. V before, now he looked downright ashen, with a line of sweat on his brow. He quickly regained his composure and called the Mackerels idiots. A classic Billy move. But it was too late. Gus saw it, and the others saw it too. Billy was freaking out.

And why shouldn't he? If what Mr. V had said was true...

Eighteen years ago. Billy was eighteen.

Billy looked at Gus. He looked at him with that same lost, needy expression Gus saw that day when he left his friend on Scuttlebutt Island. How hard it had been to leave the magician in need. Now Gus wanted to do better. He wanted to be the guy to save his friend. To tell him it was alright- that the Mackerels were lying. But his face couldn't comply. He was too overrun by shock, and so Gus looked at Billy with the self same shock.

The fashion designer had never asked the magician _why _he had powers. It just never seemed like an important question to ask.

Gus continued to watch Billy. Of all the people in the room, Gus probably knew Billy better than anyone, save the man the boy had referred to as 'Pops'. Though Billy and the other man at the table didn't look very similar(save possibly the nose), the short, stocky man expressed more genuine concern and, yes, love for Billy than any other Mackerel. He had to be Billy's dad.

Gus couldn't always tell when the magician was lying, but he had grown used to recognizing certain facial tics and habits. Billy digested the information easily enough…until he figured out that his father had known about the demon all along. Then came out shreds of a story Gus was sure Billy wouldn't want Gus to be privy to. Something about Billy's mom.

Then Billy showed them 'demonic'.

He didn't look quite as bad as he did that time in the cave. He still had light brown skin and yellow hair. The red flames surrounded him in sort of an egg. They enveloped him but did not obscure his form. Billy rose from the ground a couple of feet. The flames around him sputtered angrily, tongues reaching for the rafters, furniture, and people. The Mackerels and Gus were all herded to one corner of the room.

Billy said no more, though. He wasn't even looking at them. His hands were by his sides, in fists. His eyes closed and he had a vicious scowl on his face. Billy's father stepped forward but the magician's eyes snapped open and he pointed at the man "No! Don't come near me!"

The man stepped back. He may have been Billy's father, but he was afraid of his son. In that moment, Gus could see why Billy seemed to have some a tense relationship with that man. It was kind of sad. Gus and his father didn't always see eye to eye, but neither was afraid of the other.

The thing was, Gus was afraid of Billy too. But Billy needed him. That was apparent. He stepped forward. "No, son!" One of the Pines exclaimed and grabbed his arm, but Gus just pushed him away. He stepped up to this friend, right up to the egg of flames around the boy. The bright red flames were hot but, something unusual happened. The flames were dancing away- darting away from Gus's flesh and clothing.

He knew what he had to do. He reached his hand forward right into the wall of flames. He grabbed Billy's right hand, and clasped it in both of his. The flames danced around him without touching him- on his arms, in his hair, on his face. Billy regarded him with his confused blue eyes.

Then the magician let out a sigh, exhaling deeply. He floated back to earth and allowed his feet to touch the ground. With some more deep, practiced breaths, he made the fire go away. "I'm sorry," he said to Gus "I _hate _it when people see me get _that _mad."

* * *

Some minutes passed and they reconvened. The table and chairs were all piles of ash now, and Billy said he did not the power to turn ash back into lumber, so that was that. Billy and Gus would have to get new furniture later, but right now, no one really had a problem with standing.

Many of the mackerels had left after seeing Billy in all of his firey glory,having seen enough. Gus didn't blame them- he hadn't been fearless as some had thought. Roderick Pines had come at some point and asked him how he had known Billy's fire wouldn't harm him. The thing was, Gus hadn't. What he had known was that Billy had needed him. Not his father, not a stranger: him.

Gus didn't really understand it, but Billy relied on him. Gus was still a victim of many a practical joke from the magician, but Billy seemed to look on Gus for some wisdom that he did not himself possess. And Billy always listened to Gus's suggestions, even when he disagreed with them. When Gus was manic, Billy was calm, and when Billy was manic, Gus was his solid ground. It was indeed what Billy had said- two sides of the same coin.

But that didn't mean it was a round, shiny coin. More of a scuffed coin: the face difficult to make out. Gus smiled. He was learning how to lie more convincingly from being with Billy so much. "I'm his best friend. He'd never hurt me."

The only Mackerels remaining were Mr. V, Ricky's dad, Billy's dad and Roderick Pines, and these four were giving Billy and Gus a with berth. Actually, Gus didn't mind, because they both had a lot more elbowroom now. Still, it was funny to see these four guys crowd into one side of the room and pretend like they weren't afraid of Billy.

It was the sort of thing that would tickle Billy to no end, but the magician was out of sorts, tired, sarcastic, ect. Gus supposed that finding out your powers came from an evil demon would make anyone a little moody. The magician addressed Mr. V.

"Well, get to it. You guys didn't make this trip all the way up here to tell why I can set things on fire with my mind." No one answered. At least, they did not reply fast enough for Billy's taste, and the magician went on "Lemme guess. You want to exorcise the demon or something?"

"Actually, yes, Bill, we do." Mr. V said evenly. "This is why we tried to contact you a year ago, and failed. There is ritual with which we can separate you from the demon, leaving you both whole."

Gus could see the gears turning in Billy's head "So lemme get this straight," he said "after all these years that the demon has been stuck insida me, or whatever, you just wanna let 'im out? What happened the part about him being your mortal enemy? Isn't he like, omnipotent and unbeatable?"

"Immediately after being released from his prison of flesh," Mr. V started "the demon will be in a weakened state. Weak enough so that we can extinguish him once and for all."

Billy's face was expressionless, and, sounding rather bored, he asked, "You wanna kill the guy?"

"Triangulum is a bane to humanity," Ricky' dad began to speak "the creature's talent for to deceive and cause anguish are unmatched by any other being the Order deals with. Yes, of course we wish to kill the demon. You'd kill a wolf if it was at your door, wouldn't you?"

Billy shrugged, but did not give a yes or no answer to the hypothetical question "Alright, lemme ask you this: why separate us _now_? Why not before?"

"Why not? Because you were a child, and you not have been able to understand your condition. We wanted to give you a normal childhood- or as normal as possible considering." He exchanged glances with Billy's dad.

The magician seemed to consider this. Then he snorted and smirked, though his expression was not mirthful. "And if I refuse to let ya exorcise him?"

Gus stared at Billy. Was he only talking in hypotheticals, or was he being serious? They had just heard the man. Billy had a demon _inside of him. _A demon who saw human beings mere playthings. The thought of that was terrifying! Wasn't Billy afraid of his creature? Wouldn't he do anything to get rid of it?

The Mackerels seemed to be disbelieving as well. Mr. V cleared his throat "If you refuse, we can't force you."

"Ya can't?" Billy asked with genuine surprise.

"You must be 100% willing to go through with the procedure. If you are forced, the exorcism will fail, with fatal results."

Billy raised an eyebrow "Fatal?"

Mr. V nodded "One of you- the demon or the human- will die."

Billy scratched his beard as he thought about this "I see. So if the demon that dies, you guys are home free..."

"But if you die, the demon will be angry, and too powerful to kill." Roderick said.

Billy nodded "Well, if that's the way it is," he moved away from the wall he had been leaning on and shrugged largely "thanks, but no thanks."

Billy's dad too pushed away from the wall "Is it because we told you what could go wrong? Son, nothing will happen to you or him if you go through willingly. We won't let you go wrong."

Billy got a tight, angry grin on his face "Oh _that's _funny," Billy said, but didn't laugh "the guy who's lied to me _all my life_ thinks he's gonna to tell me who I should and shouldn't trust. You slay me, Pops!" He turned to Mr. V "If you separate the demon from me, I lose my magic, don't I?"

"But of course, Bill," Mr. V said "but Bill, think about it. These abilities you have- they're not natural. No human is meant to fly or cast flames. Your magic, as you term it, was stolen from our old time enemy. They aren't yours to use."

Billy shook his head "They are though. You made them mine when you decided to use me as a walking demon receptacle." He created a fireball and bounced it on his fingertips "If you don't like that I can do _this_, you only have yourselves to blame."

"And what about your episode just a few moments ago?" Mr. V asked "It underlines just how dangerous living with a demon inside you can be."

"To you saps, maybe. " He shrugged "So, I get mad sometimes. I'm not the only person with a temper. Look," he reached under his collar and snaked the necklace with the stone out "as long as I got this baby, I'm alright. So you guys can go home."

Red faced, Billy's dad exclaimed, as if he was keeping it back all along "Be reasonable, Bill! You don't what kind of effects Triangulum has had on you so far. What kind of effects he can have on you down the line!"

"I've done pretty good so far, and I didn't even know he was there!" Billy pointed out. He crossed him arms, and started across the room. He got to the center where he stared the members of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel down. "You made a mistake. I get that. Lotsa people make mistakes. Now you'll have to deal with yours. This magic is mine now, and it's my livelihood. Without it, I can't call myself Billy Mischief anymore. The answer is no. Now, kindly get outta my house. Your welcome was worn out a long time ago."


	19. Nineteen: William the Lawyer

We shut down the store early. It's pretty obvious we're not going to get any customers today and, besides: my own and Gus's nerves are frayed from what we just learned. We retreat upstairs, where we both have our rooms. We're sitting on my bed. I made coffee and it sloshes around in mugs.

"I _really _want a drink." I tell Gus.

"You've got one."

"Not that kind, pal."

Gus sighs "Drinking _is _illegal. You know Billy, it wouldn't kill you to be a law abiding citizen _once_ in a while."

"I suppose _so_, but I consider this a special occasion!" I say, looking at the dark brown liquid in my cup. I like my coffee black. I feel a bad joke coming on...

"You might be right." Gus says, after a second, "Are you okay, Billy? I haven't seen your flames be that color since that time Ricky and I found you in the cave under the waterfall."

I snap my fingers and a tongue of blue flame latches onto my thumb. I snap my fingers again and the blue flame turns red. "Blue is control and impassiveness. Red is emotion. Red happens when I _lose_ control."

"I hope you're feeling better now."

"Gus, I'm feeling like I could use a drink!."

Gus rolls his eyes "Just do what I do: drink your coffee."

I groan "Angus, how're you ever gonna live if you go around following other people's rules _all the time_?"

"Did I forget to mention that drinking is _illegal? _Because I'm pretty sure I did. I don't know about you, but _I _don't wanna go to jail."

This time I roll my eyes. Leaving my cup floating in space, I lay on the bed, my hands under my head "This is why I miss San Francisco."

Gus sips his coffee and I lay on the bed, contemplating the way the frame comes together at the apex of the room. My walls are actually pretty bare- I oughta paint 'em. Maybe a nice scarlet color would pull this all together. Or maybe I should just wallpaper it. Gus is staring at my cup, which is still levitating above my chest.

After what seems like a long time, he asks "Billy, can I ask you about the deer?"

Well, there's only one deer that Gus and I have dealt with since we've known other, so I know what he's talking about. "Shoot, kid."

"Was it you who...did that thing to that deer?" he sounds a bit nauseous as he says the second part. All I did was remove all the deer's bones, killing it instantly but painfully. He's being a little overdramatic, isn't he? "Or was it...him?"

I consider his question for a few seconds, not getting up "Are ya wondering if I voluntarily mutilated that deer?"

Gus nods.

"I meant to do it, Gus. She deserved what she got!"

"What?! Billy- that deer was-" he sputtered "how can you say that?!"

_Now _I sit up "Gus, did you see what that deer did to me?! I almost died 'causa her!"

Now Gus gives me an odd look "Unless the _deer_ made your skin turn bright red and start speaking that devil language I don't see how-"

"But she did!" I point out "She tricked me! She took me to this birch tree that was like, cursed or something and- wait, whadya mean 'devil language?'"

Gus's face is pretty uncomprehending. The boy blinks, then begins "Um, well, yeah, Billy! You were speaking this weird language when you were glowing. It was all consonant-y. Well it had some vowels but they were in the wrong places. Don't tell me you don't remember that?"

Now it's my turn to blink "I _thought _I was speaking English. I mean, why wouldn't I'ah been?" It had been a long time ago, though. I suppose I could have been speaking Spanish or French or maybe pidgin Chinese...these three languages I'm okay at. But none of these three sound the way Gus was describing this. But now that I think of it, Ricky did say something about speaking in tongues. This is weird and kind of disturbing. Not only did the dear make my demonic episode worse, but apparently she made me impossible to understand too!

"Can you tell me more about how I sounded?" I ask.

I can see Gus is chilled by the idea that I didn't even _know _that I was speaking this quote-un-quote 'devil language'. He does his best to imitate what it sounded like, with poor results. "You wrote some down too. It was just messed up; wrong." After grilling him some more, I get an idea. I get up, go to a desk, get a piece of paper and a pencil and write something on a piece of paper. "Gus, did it look like this?!"

**Pb qdph lv Eloo**

"Yes!" Gus exclaims, a shudder going through his body "that's exactly what it looked and looked like! What is that anyway? Is that how the demon communicates with the outside world or-"

He's interrupted by my laughter "Gus! That's not a language! That's caesar cipher! Three letters back!" I tilt my head back and laugh some more "I can't believe I was speaking _caesar!"_

"Well I didn't think it was funny," Gus mumbles "you were freaking us both out!"

"Well, it wasn't duck soup for me either!" I grumble back. "But if there's one good thing that came outta it," I shrug, look at the paper and say "boy, if only I could speak caesar _without _being two-timed by an ungulate! I'd incorporate that into my act in a heartbeat!" I look at the page again "Pb qdph lv eloo. See? Sounds dumb."

But Gus has scurried further up the bed, away from me "That sounded pretty convincing to me, Billy!"

"Wait, are ya serious? Did I pronounce that right?" I try again, this time with a new phrase "Fdq L vshdn fdhvdu?" Noting Gus's bleached expression, a wide smile cracks my face in half "Ha! L jxhvv L fdq! Erb, L'p qhyhu jrqqd jhw wluhg ri wklv wulfn!"

Gus sighs "Okay. That's great Billy- you can talk in code. Man, how do ya do that? How do you figure out what the letters are gonna be so fast, and then how to pronounce them right?" Clearly he's at least somewhat familiar with the three letters back decryption scheme. Clever kid.

I shrug "L gxqqr. Pdbeh lw'v d ghprq wklqj."

Gus sighs "Billy, I can't understand decode caesar if I'm not looking at it. Do ya mind talking normally?"

I grin bashfully "Sorry, kid. Got caught up in the trick, I guess," I'm beaming, but I go on "I said, 'must be a demon thing.'" I grab my coffee cup out of the air and let some scorching hot liquid go right down the gullet. "That's it! Like my heart."

"What?" Gus asks. Once again, I've gone too fast for him to keep up. I get that a lot. My thoughts go back so fast in my head that I'm constantly outdistancing even myself. Why do you think I talk so fast? It's not just because everyone talks fast in the city- I've got a lotta stuff I gotta fit outta that trap!

I sit back on the bed, next to him, cup on my lap "Okay, so, I'm a demon now, right?" I shrug "Well, I always have been, I just didn't know. But," I drape my long arms over his sturdy frame "think of all the avenues that opens up for great jokes! 'I like my coffee black- like my heart!' 'You don't stand a snowball's chance in hell. I know! I've known snowballs in hell who stood better chances than you!' 'I'd go for a jog, but demons aren't into exorcising!'"

Gus looks annoyed "Billy, did you listen to anything Mr. Vr- did you listening to anything that guy had to say? You have a demon you're keeping prisoner, but that demon isn't you!"

"Yeah, I heard 'im," I say, "he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"What do you mean?"

I shrug "I'm that demon. I'm that triangle guy."

Gus shudders "No!"

"What is it, Gus? What's wrong with that?"

Gus shakes his head "No! My best friend _can't _be a demon!"

"Oh," say, and pause. Then I whisper into Gus's ear "Too late!"

Gus puts his hand on my chest to push me away "Billy, stop. _You _aren't Triangulum. You just got confused, okay?"

"Of course I'm not _Triangulum._ Did you hear 'em? Triangulum's not even my real name. And what a dumb name it is, anyway! It's just Latin for triangle. Not very creative. I-slash-the demon doesn't even have a name. Or," I smirk "if he does, it's something humans can't pronounce! Something like-_ Eloo Plvfklhi Flskhu!"_ I give a self-satisfied smirk.

He rolls his eyes "You said your name in caesar, didn't you?

"So ya decoded it, didn't ya kid?" I ask with a grin.

"No," he says "I just know you really, really well." But he shakes his head. "You're being ridiculous." By his tone, I can tell he's not going to be convinced of anything different. I continue to glare. I really am annoyed. If one thing came out of that stupid chat with the Mackerels, I at least learned a few things about myself. What they told me about this demon made so much sense to me. Why can't Gus see _how_ perfectly it makes sense?

"I'll prove it to ya." We're both in our white shirts and suspenders at the moment, as we don't expect any more company. I roll up my sleeves to show Gus my bare arms.

"Um, Billy? A lot of people get mosquito bites. Not just demons."

"No Gus, look! They wrote on my arms!"

Gus laughs, "Mosquito brains are microscopic! They can't read and write, and they can't organize themselves together and write a message!"

"Gus, read it!" I implore him, shoving my arm in his face.

The boy rolls his eyes but inspects the pattern of bites on my arm. "I don't know. I might say- OEMON? And the other one looks like DIB."

"You're supposed to read the left arm first," I inform him "and it says DIE DEMON. You're right, Gus. Mosquitoes aren't very smart. They're bad spellers!"

Gus rolls his eyes "That literally proves nothing, Billy!"

"It proves lots of things!"

"No it doesn't. So the bites in your arm _kind of _look like words. That's a coincidence! I'd probably find words in my arms if mosquitoes bit _me _so much."

"That's another thing! Animals hate me because I'm a demon!"

"They hate the other guy; not you!"

"Okay, wise head, figure this out:" I cross my arms "if I'm just this guy's roommate, how come he's never once said hello?"

"Because- I dunno! Because demons are rude, okay? And they live in your body and eat all your food and sleep and your bed and never once say hello, or even pay rent for that matter." I laugh at this. Gus is getting better at the jokes.

But Gus sobers quickly "Billy, is that why you didn't want them to exorcise the demon? Because you thought that _you'd _be the one getting exorcised?"

"Well, yeah! Did you hear what they wanted to do to the demon-slash-me?" I say, concern on my face. Killing a guy when he's weak is a low and dirty move. Even if the demon's not me, I'm pretty sure that, as much of a pain as the demon was for the Mackerels, he doesn't deserve to be murdered for it!

Gus's eyebrows come close together "I honestly believe you're misinterpreting them," he says "I honestly believe that you won't be hurt at all if you let them exorcise the demon. The only thing is, you'll lose your powers. You'll be regular old Bill Cipher from now on."

I laugh. It starts as a few chuckles but it takes over my frame. "Ahahaha, HAHAHAHAH!" I hold my gut and face, lapping up the hilarity.

"Billy, what's so funny?" Gus asks, annoyed.

"Boy, Gus!" I exclaim, wiping a tear from my eye "You have no idea what ya just said!" I take a few seconds to regain my composure "Gus, there's no such thing as 'regular old Bill Cipher.' Look, Billy Mischief is my stage name, and I let fallers call me that because _some of them _can't understand the concept of people having nicknames." Gus chortles at this because he knows what I'm talking about. "But Bill Cipher is who I am. That's what they called me back in San Fran. It's the name I use to think about myself. Bill Cipher is me- the whole package, magic and all."

"I don't follow." Gus said.

"If I don't have magic any more, I'm not Bill anymore. Plain and simple." I shrug "Without magic I'm..._William. _And I don't wanna _be _William. Not ever!"

"But Billy- what's so wrong with William? William doesn't seem like a bad guy."

"Exactly," I say "he's _not a bad guy_. And he's not a smart guy, or a talented guy, or a wealthy guy. William's got nothing going on for him. William's a nobody!"

Gus sighs "You're being ridiculous again. You act like magic is the only skill you have!"

"It is!" I exclaim.

"Come _on, _Billy. You're smart. And you're good at convincing people of stuff. At the very least, you'd be a good lawyer."

"Oh _great!" _I moan, "William is an even worse guy than I thought! He's a _lawyer!"_

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night, spooked by something. I'm note easily spooked, so when something wakes me up in the middle of the night, it's always relevant.

I look out the clear triangle window. The yard looks just the same as it usually does- craggy grass coming up through rocky soil. But there's another element to the picture this time, and it draws attention to itself with a pair of round headlights. The big boxy object is a car. I recognize a few features, like the slant of the material roof and the long strait front end.

Though I am pleased to see Ricky- I always am- but I have to question what she's going here at this time of night. I throw the blankets offa me and tip toe down the stairs, weary of a sleeping Gus. I hold a ball of blue flame in my hand because it's so dark in the house, and I don't wish to turn on any lights. By the time I'm on the first level, there's a knock on the door. "Yeah, I'm coming!"

The sight of me opening the door in my worn traveling clothes (I never got a new pair of pajamas) and my hair plastered oddly to one side must be a surprise to Ricky because she lets out a discrete "Oh!" Sound. "I'm sorry Billy- I didn't expect you to be sleeping! It's only midnight!"

I shrug "Long day. Went to bed early." I scratch the back of my neck, my sleepy brain trying to decide what to do next. "Wanna come in?"

She does walk in "In all the time I've known you, Billy, I never thought I'd hear those four words come out of your mouth."

Since I don't have a bathrobe to put on handy, I grab a wizard's robe instead(one of the costumes). How weirdly fitting. This particular one is floor length and a bright navy blue with a buncha little silver and gold stars and moons. "My magic man," she says and plants her lips on my cheek.

Ricky explains to me the meaning of her visit "I honestly don't know what got into my father, but he's worse now! He came home from one of his lodge meetings and outright _forbid _me to see you!"

"Lodge meetings?" I probe.

Ricky nods "He's in this club- The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel. They meet every- month or so?" She shrugs.

"Huh. What do these royal tuna guys do anyway?" I ask, fishing(Ha! See what I did there?).

Ricky shrugs "I dunno- Father acts like it's all hush-hush. Acts like it's this big conspiracy. My theory is that they're just in the club to get away from their wives and daughters. Yanno, sit around and play poker and _pretend _they're saving the world. But Billy! That's beside the point. I wasn't able to sneak out of the house until after my father and brother went to sleep. I'm sorry I didn't get the key to the stocks in time, Billy-"

I wave a hand "Don't worry about it, doll! That was hours ago! Let's worry about now. Look, you went all the trouble of sneaking out, I'd be a real goof if I didn't get ya some coffee or something!"

So we head to the kitchen. I make her and I some coffee then resolve to give her a tour around the place. I want to see her face light up with wonder as I show her every hidden door and trap door. I bring her round the ground floor circuit, choosing not to head upstairs as we might disturb a sleeping Gus. "So whadya think of the Chateau so far?"

"Chateau? Shack is more likely!" She says with a surprised laugh. Then, seeing my wounded expression, she catches herself "Oh gosh- Billy, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way!

"You must understand Billy-" she goes on "I've _been_ to France. I've seen chateaus- real ones! This would be like, the shack behind the chateau. They'd use a building like this to store all the garden tools and such!"

I shrug "The Shack, huh?" I must admit, the phrase does have a certain ring to it, even if it means lowering the grandeur of my conceit. "The Shack...The Shack Cipher...Cipher's Shack..."

"Why not call it the Mischief Shack?"

I frown "Doesn't sound _quite_ right. I think I'll stick with The Shack."

Ricky shrugs and sips more coffee. She has another, and another and, on her third, already jacked up on caffeine, she starts to rage. "I just can't believe he would do it! Go into business against you, put you in the stocks, forbid me to see you! _Ugh!_ What is _wrong _with that man?! He's never been like this before, I swear! Billy, it's like it's something about _you _turns him into a madman, or something!"

I'm still nursing my first cup. Steam tickles my nose. It's actually been a while since I brewed this- I'm just keeping it singing hot with my fire. I clear my throat "Actually, Ricky, your Pops came to see me today. Right here, in fact."

She raises an eyebrow "Are you serious? Why?"

I smirk and look at the table between us. No swell knot of wood that looks curiously like on eye on this one. Ah well. "What I'm about to you is going to sound _really weird._ But I know you don't like me keeping secrets from ya- especially big things, so I'm gonna tell ya. Can you promise to believe me, Ricky?"

Ricky looks worried "Um, I guess?"

I dive in headfirst, giving a very abridged account of my evening spent chatting with the Mackerels. I skip out the part about the chase through the forest and dive right into coming home and finding them there. Ricky is not believing at first. Why would the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel come to my house? Then she's mad at me for lying earlier.

"You acted like you never heard of them!"

I shrug "I wanted to see how much you knew about 'em first." She's still sore so I add, "Hey, at least you knew more than I did before today! I didn't even know what they were _called _before today!"

She quietly listens to the rest of the story, asking very few questions. "And uh, that's it, Ricky." I say, finally finishing my first cup of coffee.

Ricky taps her pretty nails on the table. "So. You're a demon." She says, tasting the word.

I'm surprised to hear her calm tone, and I'm surprised that I'm surprised. "You believe that, Ricky?"

She shrugs "You told me once you didn't know for sure that you were a warlock. I always thought your reasoning for that was weird. I mean the people who wrote those books about burning witches- they were the people who actually _burned_ _the witches. _I would think that they would know what they were doing after a hundred years or so."

"Huh," I run my fingers through my hair, now feeling self conscious about that blown away theory.

"Does it hurt?" She asks.

"Does what hurt?"

"Being inside of a human?"

I sit bolt upright in the chair, my eyes wide. She believes me. She believes _everything _I told her, even the fact that I am myself a demon and not just the holding pen for one. That's more than I got from Gus. I press my lips together "No." I whisper, then clear my throat to get my voice going again "I mean, it feels fine." I put my hand to my chest- to where my amulet is "As long as I have this."

My turn to ask her something. "Do you think it's weird?"

"What? That you're a demon?"

"That you're dating me, and I'm a demon." I clarify.

Ricky laughs. Her laugh is so pretty and tittering- nothing like mine. "Billy, everything about you is weird. Dating you is like an adventure." She comes around the table and gives me a hug "Besides, I've always had this thing for bad boys. How much more bad can you get than a _demon?" _

"So ya like it when I'm bad, huh?" I tease. We kiss.

Ricky takes a breath "Will you ever want to leave?" She asks.

"Gravity Falls?"

"Your body."

I'm amazed. She's taking this _startlingly _well. If she was surprised by what I told her, she's not showing it. But she's past surprise. She's already coming up with questions that I haven't even come up with.

She goes on "I mean, judging by what you say, if you just didn't have a body, you'd be all powerful. Able to do anything you wanted to. Does- does that tempt you?" She sounds worried.

Even more worrisome to Ricky, I have to think about this for some time. All powerful. Being able to create creatures like the Gobblewonker or the Multi-Bear whenever I pleased. With power like that, I could turn the ash back into a table. I could heal Gus without hurting him. I could see everything and know everything!

But to be without my body? That just sounds so...cold and strange. I've had my body for as long as I can remember, and I can't even imagine being without one.

"No," I stand up "Because if I didn't have a body, how could I do this?" I make to move in for a kiss, and Ricky angles her face to get it, but at the last minute I change coarse. I nibble her earlobe, lightly, but it happens. Ricky lets out a squeal of surprise.

"Oh, Billy! I guess you're feeling frisky, huh?"

"You're the one with all the coffee in ya!"

But she doesn't answer. That is to say, she doesn't give me a vocal reply. She instead grabs my face and plunges her mouth into mine. In only makes sense. For five months, her school has been keeping us apart. Then after those five months got over, Ricky and I had to deal with her pops's malarkey. We're hungry for each other. On top of that, the idea that this would really make Parsifal Northwest mad is kind of an extra aphrodisiac for the both of us.

I reach my hand around her back to undue the zipper on her dress, but Ricky comes up to breathe "Wait. Can we do this on a bed or something?"

* * *

After Ricky stayed one night at Billy's house, it kind of became official. It wasn't that she didn't want to go home because her father would be furious with her. Ricky didn't want to go home _period. _Living in the home of her father after experiencing the freedom of college life was oppressive. Suddenly she was expected to be home at a certain time, to eat meals with the family, ect. If only her father could have _seen _the way she had lived in Portland! He would be aghast. Besides, her father's rage was a drop in a pail compared to Ricky's fury.

So after she got swept into staying a night at Billy's house that night, she stayed. Oh, the transition wasn't completely smooth. Her father did come over with Jesús, his personal strong man, to yell at Ricky and Billy for a while. The two of them told the Northwest entourage to get lost, in a few more words.

With Gus it was a different story. He was surprised that first day he walked down the stairs to find Ricky in the kitchen, wearing Billy's bathrobe. He was kind to her at first, but in her company, alternated between being distant and being testy. Ricky didn't get it, but on the other hand, she didn't notice Gus as much as she had before.

Billy was like a drug to Ricky. When he was around, it was sometimes all she could do to keep herself out of his arms. When he wasn't around, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

Was he really a demon? Ricky didn't know. She didn't care. No matter what excuse he used to explain his powers, he was still Billy. He was still the boy she was in love with.

But they couldn't subside on being in love. Billy and Gus had problems of their own. Mainly, the store, and the fact that they would go into debt if they didn't turn some kind of profit. Billy was doing all he could short of illegal proceedings to attract customers, but nothing seemed to work. Gus even considered changing his business strategy. People only need costumes every once in a while, but there was always a need for _clothes._

Ricky could tell a lot was riding on it. Billy didn't talk about it much, but he was worried- trying to take care of the upkeep of the house, and feed two people and a goat on his small performer's pay. And this was Gus's chance to show his father that he really _could _make it living his own dream- that all the time he put into honing his talent was _worth _something. And it was all going down the drain.

"Do you think we'll have any luck if we start advertizing that we sell kids clothes, or do you think Ricky's dad will just change tactics again?" Gus asked one day, while they were lounging the store, once again hoping for customers.

Ricky was a little annoyed that Gus had directed the question to Billy when Ricky was in the room, but she said "I have no idea. I've stopped being able to tell what my father will do next."

"If only The Gravity Falls Costume Mart would disappear," Billy grumbled "and if only we had another Pioneer Day."

Ricky agreed. Costumes were only really needed for events. There we no such things in late June through the rest of summer. The forth wasn't something people dressed up for.

"Maybe we can put on a play?" Gus suggested "At the old theater?"

Billy liked the sound of this "That sounds great! I'd love to hold auditions. Tell folks to say embarrassing things and tell 'em they're not good enough. Send 'em home crying!"

Gus smirked "As fun as that does sound, Billy," he rolled his eyes "we'll have to hire _some _actors. But we'll need a script first."

"I'll write a script," Billy suggested "how about the tale of a handsome young drifter in a small town?" His signature shit eating grin came to his face.

"You both forget," Ricky interjected "that my father _owns _the theater."

Both boys looked shocked, then crestfallen. They _hadn't _known. "Holy isosceles, Ricky," Billy said "is there _anything_ your pops doesn't own?"

"This property," Ricky deadpanned "and that's it. Well, just about." She sighed.

Silence came in between the three of them. They looked in separate directions, annoyed. "At least Halloween's coming up," Billy said "yanno- the guisers."

"Do ya think we'll survive until the end of October?" Gus sighed.

Billy laughed dryly and humorlessly "Excellent question." He crossed his arms.

"Maybe we can _make _Halloween." Ricky suggested.

"Whadya mean, _make _Halloween?" Billy asked.

"Well, you know. Like how my father created Pioneer Day, when I was a little girl. Maybe we can create a holiday of our own."

"But Halloween already exists," Gus pointed out.

"Then we'll make it different. We'll make it summer-y." Ricky said, and smirked. She rose from her chair a little, getting excited "like, instead of Jack-o-Lanterns, Jack-o-Melons! And instead of bobbing for apples, bobbing for corn on the cob!"

"Does corn-on-the-cob float?" Gus asked, but that crazed smile had painted Billy's face.

"Oh, do tell me more, my crafty vixen!"


	20. Twenty: Eye Scream

We spend an afternoon hammering out the details of the new holiday. We flip for the name. Ricky is partial to a more classical name: "Let's call it a Midsummer Night's Ween." Gus and I, however, see value in a short, easy to remember name "Summerween, Ricky. Just Summerween." In the end, Summerween wins the coin toss.

The next hurdle is getting people to actually _celebrate _Summerween. What will convince them to do all the Halloween activities in the summer? In a stroke of brilliance, an idea comes to me. "I've got it!" I say, jumping up and levitating a few garments out of excitement. "We'll make a monster! The monster will hunt people down and eat them if they don't celebrate!"

Gus and Ricky both give me long, exasperated looks.

"I don't think threatening people is a good way to make them _want _to celebrate Summerween," Gus points out.

"Of course they'll _want _to," I say "they'll _want _to live, won't they?"

But after going in depth explaining to me why creating a man-eating monster might not be the best idea, I finally give in. "Why not turn the Shack into a haunted house instead? With all these hidden rooms, it's practically made for that!" Well I do love scaring people, and I like the idea of showing off my craftsmanship, so naturally this appeals to me.

The other big hurdle is Ricky's pops. He hasn't done much in the five days since Ricky moved in with Gus and me, but I don't doubt that he would stop at nothing to mess up any plans I have. If he finds out about or plans, will he try to stop Summerween from happening? Or will he pull out all the stops to make _his _Summerween better? In any case, he can't know: more easily said than done in this town. You can't fart in this town without all your neighbors knowing about it. _Especially _Northwest. Everyone knows Northwest, everyone talks to Northwest. All the quality people, anyway.

So the giant fricking elephant sized question is how are we going to let a good number of people know about Summerween without letting Northwest or any of his friends find out?

* * *

It takes us about a day to come up with an answer. It's a day Gus spends hopefully drafting some kids designs, and Ricky as his assistant putting some things together. I'm touring the house and trying out some illusions in different rooms choosing which horrible visions will pack the most punch. I'm on the roof when Ricky finds me.

I'm considering putting some kind of monster up there, but then again, if people get too startled, they might fall off. Not that falling is not a horrible thing, it's just that a fall only lasts for a few seconds before it's over. Wouldn't it be more satisfying to make people _think _they're falling, and for a very long time? Perhaps I can cast some kind of illusion that makes them think they're higher up when they get up here.

Ricky comes scrambling over the angular roof to where I am. "Gus told me to went to the top of the roof." Without even asking me what I was thinking she says "Why not display the fear of heights itself out here?"

"Holy isosceles, Ricky, that's what _I _was thinking!" I exclaim. "Ok, how about _this," _a cast an illusion on the area around us. The Shack roof, and the ground, and the surrounding trees are gone. Ricky and I stand on a craggy cliff. If we look straight ahead, there's another steep cliff with slick, black edges. Above, a lightening bolt of blue sky. A bird of prey wheels ominously within the blue. Below, the walls of the cliff stretching to eternity until they meet in a black, fuzzy area. The cliff walls below drip with condensation.

Even though she knows it's just an illusion, Ricky gets on her hands and knees to look at way lays below. "You took inspiration from that time we fell, didn't you?" She shudders "Yanno, if you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be alive right now." She says matter-of-factly.

I feel a little jolt because I had never realized that before.

She gets up, shakily, to her feet "It's very convincing, Billy. If it freaks me out and I _know _it's an illusion, it's bound to scare anyone else!"

"Anything ya think I can add? What about a stiff wind?"

Ricky shakes her head "If people get _too_ scared and dizzy, they might fall. It's still a pretty long drop. We don't want anyone to get hurt." I shrug and agree that this, too, is a good reason not encourage people to fall "Better to just keep it as is."

"Hey, sit with me," she invites, and we both sit on the cliff-disguised roof "Anyway, I wanted to tell you, I think I thought of a group of people my father doesn't have influence over."

"Oh yeah? And who's that?"

"Kids." Ricky said "You'd be amazed how independent kids can be. And they're good at keeping secrets from their parents. Especially if they think that they'll be socially ostracized if they tell."

I smirk "Something tells me you already have a plan."

Ricky gives a small but evil smile "It's simple, really. All we have to do is use middle school politics. True, the kids aren't in school right now, but they still have friends. That social hierarchy is still there. If the monarch of the kids tells them they _have_ to do something, most of them are going to do it."

"So all we have to do is find this monarch and Summerween is a go?"

"Pretty much."

"But how are we going to convince the monarch to help us?" I question.

At this, Ricky gets a funny look on her face, between pain and embarrassment. "Oh," she says "I think she'll listen to me. You see Billy," she clears her throat "I'm _America Northwest."_ She says her name oddly- with an accent of some sort. "I used to be the monarch of Gravity Falls Middle School."

I grin "Well I'm not surprised about that! You are rich, and you can be a bitch too, sometimes!"

Ricky looks taken aback "How did you know the monarch had to be a bitch too?"

I roll my eyes "Come _on, _Ricky! I went to middle school! High school too. I've had my experiences with the Queen Bitch."

"Somehow, I didn't think boys noticed that kinda thing."

He shrugs "Most guys don't. The guys in my class didn't know _why _they all wanted to date Cindy Chiu(that was her name), they just knew they did. But me, I'm more perceptive than most," I say with a shrug.

"So did _you_ ever date Cindy?" Ricky asks.

I rolled my eyes "Not my type. When I was in high school, I was more concerned with dismantling the established hierarchy than becoming a part of it."

Ricky raises an eyebrow "Are you saying you did something horrible to Cindy?"

I grin impishly "That's a subjective question, Ricky. Cindy thought it was horrible when her golden hair mysteriously turned acid green. I thought it was _hilarious!"  
_

* * *

By asking the right questions, Ricky and I do find the monarch of Gravity Falls Middle School. She's Dr. Pitt's daughter, Fiera Pitt. Like her father, all of her features are regular she and would surely grow to be a gorgeous young woman, without the flaw her father has of the large ears. "So I heard you weirdos wanted my help?" She says, boredly looking at her nails. They're nicely manicured, I notice.

Ricky has instructed me to let her do the talking. She used to _be _Fiera after all- she knows her language. Ricky gets down to brass tacks. She does not try to sell Summerween on the kid, as I probably would. They both address each other by their last names- more like two adults making a business negotiation than a couple of girls talking about a party. Then again, this is business- to Gus and me anyway.

Ricky talks about how boring the party will probably be, but if _Fiera _is there, well, at least it will be somewhat _interesting. _Fiera listens to this whole spiel hardly asking any questions, looking bored out of her mind.

"Alright, Northwest. I can do it. I can tell all the kids the Summerween is the next big, secret thing. But how are _you _going to make it worth my while?"

Ricky sighs "I knew you'd want something. Alright, kid, what can I do for you? You want my chinchilla coats? Or my jewelry?"

Fiera pretends to shudder "_Honestly,_ Northwest, do you really think I would take your second hand clothes? No," her eyes narrow dangerously. Suddenly she points to me "I want _him."_

"What?" I ask, accidently breaking my vow of silence.

"_Billy_?" Ricky scoffs, which wounds me in a certain way until I realize that she's acting. "What do you want with _him_? He's a total schmuck!"

"True," Fiera admits "but he's cute. As long as he doesn't talk."

Okay. Forget the vow of silence! "What do you mean, _'_as long as I don't talk?!"

Fiera rolls her eyes "Oh great, he's talking. I swear," she says to me "your voice has got to be worse than nails on a chalkboard! Are your testicles constantly in a vice? How does it even _get_ that high?"

"Hey kid, I'll have you know that my voice is _fantastic, _ya follow?" Who is this kid? Where does she even come from?

Ricky rolls her eyes "Billy, stop talking." She says condescendingly, as if I'm some little dog who's yapping too much. It's not her regular way. She's trying to get a hold on the conversation. I realize that this is all part of the negotiation, and I'm kinda ruining it, so I shut my trap.

Ricky gestures to me "Of course you don't want Billy. See? He's defective. _I _don't even know why I keep him around."

_Ouch._ Okay, I know she's acting, but does she have to be so good at it?

"Oh no, Northwest, I _want _him alright!" She puts her hands on her hips "I want him to be my date to the Summerween party!"

"What?!" I exclaim.

"No talking, Billy!" Ricky and Fiera both shout, causing me to jump a little. I clamp my jaw. Well. This is weird. I'm not used to being silenced, and I don't like it either. _But it's for the store._

"Are you sure?" Ricky sounds bored.

"Absolutely. You can understate his value all you want," I raise an eyebrow. What am I, a used car? Out of the blue, Fiera grabs my hand "But look at his nails! I've never seen a guy with nails that perfect!"

I grin "I knew I recognized a fan of nail care when I saw one!"

"No talking, Billy!" Ricky and Fiera yell again. What the heck? How am I supposed to help if I'm not allowed to talk?

I'm not. I'm not a person in this conversation. I'm goods being bartered. It's very weird to stand there and have Fiera and Ricky discuss my various defects and perfections, like I'm a prized horse at the market. My perfect nails, my fluffy golden hair, my eyes, and my gorgeous eye lashes(their words not mine!) are my good traits. My voice, my hawkish nose, and my fashion sense are my bad traits(again, according to them!).

"Does he dance?"

Ricky rolls her eyes "Oh yeah. _He dances."_ For the record, Ricky loves my dancing.

"We'll he's not going to dance at the party. I _hate _it when people dance. People are supposed to stand around and feel self conscious as dances, not _enjoy _themselves.

"Of course- jeez, I know _that!"_ Ricky rolls her eyes, then glares at me "got that, Billy?"

I nod, finally getting a hang of this whole not talking thing.

In the end, Ricky and Fiera decide that me escorting the latter to our Summerween party is worth the effort of her telling all her friends to go. We go our separate ways, Ricky and I back to the Shack. I let out a long, growling breath.

"You owe me, Ricky," I grumble "big time."

She gives me an apologetic look "I'm sorry, Billy. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

I shut my eyes for a second "_It's for the store." _I say, in sort of a mantra.

She squeezes my hand "I didn't mean any of those things I said about you."

"Ha!" I scoff "I know _that! _Besides, who in their right mind would think my voice is terrible? She must be nuts!"

It exists for less than a second, but I spot Ricky's grimace. I blink. "Uh, Ricky?" I prod.

She smiles at me "Let's just say it's the kind of voice that grows on a girl." She gives me a peck on the cheek.

* * *

And then, a wonderful thing happens.

We get customers!

They trickle in, one at a time, or in groups of two, but _some _business is better than _no _business. They are the kids of Gravity Falls. The young Corduroy tomato merchant, and a bunch of the kids I scared on Halloween, and kids I've seen but never interacted with before.

Little Dorothea Gorney is trying to decide between a witch costume and a pirate lass costume, and brings me over for my opinion. "We you the guy that scared me at the Gleeful house last Halloween?"

"That was me, kid! And you should seen your face!" I laugh.

She laughs too "Yeah, it was pretty fun! But you took all my candy!" She points out with a frown. "I was traumatized!"

I raise an eyebrow "I think you might not understand the meaning of the word," I inform her, but let it go "Go with the witch, kid. You'll look cute in the floppy hat!"

Two days before Summerween (the date is June 22nd), there's a knock at the store door just as we're closing up. I'm in the store alone, counting the cash, as Ricky and Gus have gone out to get some baking supplies for the party. The money I'm making is still a trickle, so I can't afford to turn any customer away. I come to the door and look down, as I've gotten used to looking down at our pint sized customers.

It's Fiera Pitt. The little terror is wearing a headscarf and a pair of cheaters. She's holding glass bottle with some weird clear pink liquid in it. I chuckle "Whadya doing, kid, hiding from the law?"

Fiera takes off her sunglasses to glare at me "I thought we established that your weren't allowed to talk?" She hisses.

I roll my eyes "Fine then. I won't talk. I won't tell ya that Ricky's not here, so you might as well go home."

"That's fine. You can pass a message along to her. You're capable of _taking a message_, aren't you?" She says acidicly.

A few seconds pass in which I consider the pro and con of setting here hair on fire right here, right now. The pro being: I would really, really enjoy doing that. The con being that if I did, she'd probably break off or deal and Northwest would find out about Summerween. On the other hand, I wouldn't have to go through with this date...

I decide to try doing what I figure Gus would tell me to do, and he'd tell me to bite my tongue and just sit it out and get my revenge _after _I've gotten what I needed from her. On second thought, Gus would probably tell me not to seek revenge at all, but turning the other cheek is just something I_ can't_ do.

I motion for her to wait, go to the desk, pick up a pad and pen, and come back to the door. I click my pen and nod to her.

"Ahh, so much better!" Fiera smiles. I must admit that her smile is pretty. "See how much better it is when you don't talk?"

My face is impassive, but I'm imagining Fiera's smile missing a few dozen teeth. That would make it less pretty.

"I came to inform Northwest and you that there will be a slight change in plans concerning this whole Summerween thing." She says.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fiera just groans, and I roll my eyes "Look, kid, we're not even in public right now. I'm gonna talk whether you like it or not."

Fiera's eyes narrow and her cheeks grow red. "Whatever." She scoffs. "Listen, Summerween now has a sponsor."

I raise an eyebrow "It doesn't need a sponsor."

"It's going to have one anyway. Unless you want Northwest's father hearing all about this party of yours."

I simmer. "What sponsor."

"Pitt Cola."

"Who?"

She now hands me the bottle of dark pink liquid. "My father invented this. Yours and Northwest's get together is going to be the launch party for Pitt Cola." She orders me to try it. I uncork the bottle and take a sip. The flavor isn't bad. It's sweet and fizzy, with just enough bitterness to add a kick. But I make a face anyway.

"Good luck getting people to drink that crap!" Something is floating in the bottle. "What the heck is that?" I ask, pointing at it.

"Oh they'll drink it." She says "I could tell people to eat dog shit and they would." She says matter-of-factly. "That's a peach pit, by the way."

I slosh the Pitt Cola around in the bottle. The bottle is unlabeled- this seems to be some prototype batch. "Fine," I say "I'll promote you're pops's drink. I'll promote the hell out of it. People will be lining up to drink this stuff before the night is over." I grin "Sorry about our date, doll, but I guess the two of us just weren't meant to be!"

Fiera puts her hands on her hips "It doesn't work that way, Mischief. Remember: I still have something over you. My father knows about your plans. I've told him not to tell his friend Parsifal, but he could change his mind at any minute..."

We continue negotiating. Even though appears to have all the cards, I _still _manage to renegotiate the deal to something more suited to me. What can i say? I'm _that _good. That, and I threaten to start singing, which puts the fear of demons into her. Haha, dumb kid!

So I'll get to talk at the party. Thank- thank...well, not God. Thank Satan? I dunno. I'm glad. I tell her I'll pretend to like Pitt Cola, and tell people how great Pitt Cola is. I tell her that, since I _am _somewhat of a celebrity in these parts, my opinion will carry more weight. I'm still her date and I'm still to follow her orders like a trained monkey, but I don't honestly think I can stand being silenced.

* * *

"If ya thought that was great, you should try Pitt Cola! It's the Pitts!" I say, chugging a cup of the stuff. Yep, that's me: Billy the corporate whore. Luckily, it's a role I only need play for one night.

I'm making my sales pitch to a group of kids who have just stepped out of the Shack after receiving the grand tour. Some are shaking, some are staring out into space, some are crying. I'm proud of this. I've made each room into a "nightmare zone", which focuses on one primal fear. This way, I was sure to give everyone a scare. The kid who scoffs at the sight of giant spiders is suddenly not so brave when forced to speak publically, and the kid who climbs trees all the time has a panic attack when faced with claustrophobia. I worked hard on these illusions and to see the desired effect on these youngsters really warms my heart.

Since it _is _Summerween, Gus, Ricky and I are in costume. Gus is dressed up like a vampire, Ricky is a cowgirl and I couldn't decide between two of Gus's swell costumes, so I combined them. I'm a werewolf pirate. Basically, I have fake hair glued all over my face and knuckles, with fake ears, fake tail, fake teeth, and an eye patch, tricorn hat, silk shirt and breeches.

The kids step out into the yard, clumped together, looking around and behind them, as if believing something from the bushes will jump out and attempt to eat them. Each kid is dressed in a fanciful costume, each lovingly sewn by Gravity Falls' own Angus Gleeful. Even tonight, kids are still buying costumes. I've left Gus to operate the store, which I think means a lot to him. I think he likes seeing his work be appreciated so much. I know I would.

The only adult at the party (well okay- I'm a legal adult but I'm sure as hell not mature) is Dr. Pitt, who has a table set up with his new invention. He's got a pressurized keg with a tap on and a block of ice. His son is breaking off ice shavings into glasses and the doctor is serving Pitt Cola into these. "Tell your parents you want to serve Pitt Cola at your birthday parties!" The doctor tells them.

Ricky is operating the record player. Gus and Ricky had pooled their favorite records together with the best songs they could come up with. I would have, had my records not have been miles away in an apartment in San Francisco. Even so, we do have a good sampling of jazz and party music. Watermelons have been carved out by the three of us. We spent an afternoon trying to outdo each other with crazy faces on the fruits. And there are games, like bobbing for peaches. Boy were those peaches expensive! Another of Fiera's "suggestions".

The kids stand around, drinking their sodas, traumatized. Even if I wasn't a master of scaring people, they still wouldn't be dancing. It's not allowed- Fiera's rules. Speaking of Fiera, the very same person taps me on the side. I turn around and look down "Whadya want?"

"You're tapping your feet. What did I say about dancing?"

I stop and shrug "My bad." I get back to observing the party. It's fairly late. Well, I mean, by kids' standards, it's fairly late. Nine PM. I don't believe I'm going to get any more tour groups, but I keep an eye on the driveway to see if anyone's coming.

Fiera stands where she is and crosses her arms. She taps her foot, but not to the beat of the music. Rather, she looks annoyed.

_"What?" _I growl down at her.

"I want you to take over there and kiss me." She says, pointing.

I laugh. Hard. I didn't expect that.

Her arms still crossed, she glares at me. When I'm done with my laughing fit, she speaks calmly "Let me remind you of the terms of our deal. I have given you the power to speak. That's it. Otherwise, you belong to me. You do what I do when I tell you to. If I want you to jump, you're going to jump." She puts her hands on her hips "You're going to kiss me. Right. Now."

I snort some more. Who does this kid think she is, delivering ultimatums? Oh, it's so cute! "Forget it, kid. I've formally introduced you to like you were going to the ball, I've stopped these kids from having fun because you told me to, and I even shined your shoe once. I ain't kissing ya. I'd rather kiss a rabid bull than you!" I laugh some more "Look kid, I'm flattered that you want me so much, but I think you're about a _decade_ too young for me."

Her cheeks turn a dangerous shade of red "You idiot! Do you think this is about you?!" She points to Ricky, who is at this moment changing the record in the player "When I was in elementary school, every kid talked about America Northwest. When I entered Middle School, I took the place of the girl who had taken the place of the girl who had taken her place. I was constantly in her shadow- constantly compared to her. 'Oh sure, you're pretty, but _America _was prettier!' 'You think that's mean? America can make a kid cry with just a look.' But do you think that she cared? Do you think she ever bothered to get to know to girls who had followed in her footsteps? She didn't even know my name until she had to go find me!"

"So ya want revenge, huh?"

"I saw the way she was looking at you. She's head over heels about you. She's lost her touch. She can't hide her feelings any more. I just want her, for one moment, to feel that pain. To see something that belongs to her taken away."

It's funny. Suddenly I admire Fiera a little bit. But just a little, though. Whoda thought that Ricky had her own enemy! And what my Ricky really such a terror in middle school? I have got to get her to talk about her past! In any case, I'm proud of my girl. You haven't really made in life until someone wants you dead. But Fiera's still an insufferable little brat, so I laugh in her face.

"I gotta say kid- I underestimated you! I thought you were just a dumb mean girl but no- you're a nutcase! Yes, you are pretty on the outside, but on the inside you are one little balla spite! Now if you could only pair that spite with some _brains, _well, then you'd be a force to be reckoned with! But tonight, you're never gonna get what you want. Look at the party. It's winding down. I already got what I wanted outta you. You have no use to me. Nice try, kid, but you were outta our league all along."

I walk across the empty dance area, but my walk turns into a strut, and my strut into a sashay, and my sashay turns into a jig of sorts. Ricky grins, and steps out from behind the record player and joins me. We kick around each other for a while. Kids start cheering and we start performing more complicated steps. She's not quite up to my level but I don't care. Suddenly, I grab her passionately and kiss her.

I pull away, shit eating grin on my face. I wanna see hers. "_Well!"_ She says, with a surprised smile "Where did _that_ come from?"

"A little gremlin gave me the idea." I say with a shrug.

* * *

The kids are shuffling out, walking home in their new costumes, in groups of threes and fours. Tomorrow, the story of where they went will come out to their parents. Soon, everyone will know about Summerween. The kids will want to celebrate next year, and the year after that. Summerween will become a Gravity Falls tradition!

That is, it probably would have if I hadn't soundly belittled Fiera Pitt. I might have screwed myself over there. Summerween will be an oddity; something that happened one year and never happened again. I can foresee that much.

Oh well. But it was fun this year, wasn't it? And- who knows? This one night may have just the push that the Gravity Falls Costume Emporium might have needed to become a success!

Ricky is inside with Gus, and who have decided that just because I'm the only guy with the power to levitate objects with my mind that I should take all the heavy stuff inside. Isn't that like, discrimination or something? I mean yeah- it's no effort for me, but honestly, they act like moving things around is all I'm good for!

I've got a the soda table, the record player, and the table it had been sitting on all in the air when I heard someone behind me clear their throat. A deep voice asks "Billy Mischief?"

I start, and drop the furniture to the ground. A turn around. There's a giant in my yard.

"Colin?" I blink "Colin the gnome?" What a blast from the past. I never thought I'd see those seven-foot tall gnomes again after the little escapade into the forest last winter. "Wha- what is going on, pal?"

Colin is staring beyond me- at the furniture, which just settled to the ground. His mouth is slightly agape. I twist my mouth a little. "I was ah, trying my hand at juggling."

Colin blinks "Juggling?"

I nod. "Yeah, that's right. No one juggles anything bigger than a bowling pin anymore," I shrug "I just wanted to try something new-" I gesture to the tables on the ground "guess I'm not very good at it."

Colin shakes his head "Are you- alright? You look _hairier _than the last time I saw you."

I laugh the pull the glued hair off my face "It's fake. Didn't ya hear, pal? Tonight is Summerween!"

"Summerween?"

"Yeah, pal! Like Halloween, but in the summer! It's gonna be the next big thing- just you wait!"

"Holo-een," he tastes the word, which gives me the idea that he doesn't even know what _that _is. He shakes his head again "Look, Mr. Mischief-"

"Billy," I correct him.

"Billy, I came out here to talk to you." He takes his conical hat off his head and wrings it in his giant hands "You see, it concerns our Queen."

"Mabel?"

The gnome nods.

"Is uh, is she alright?" I'm confused. What could anything to do with Mabel have to do with me?

"She's in distress."

"Distress? What kind of 'distress'?" The word is incredibly vague. 'Distress' could mean that she's sick, or it could mean that she's feeling kind of sad, or it could mean that she's about to be killed by a bear. See? It's a multi-use word.

"Maybe you should come with me and find out."

"But- I don't get it. Why does Mabel need me to come with you?"

He starts to walk toward the border of the trees "Please hurry." He sounds vaguely concerned.

"But I, uh," the gnome has disappeared into the bushes, so I don't have a chance to ask any more questions. I look back at the house.

I don't know what wrong with Mabel, but for some reason, she wants to talk to me. Colin isn't waiting around, and I know I won't be able to find my way to the Gnome Forest right now. Not only is it night and the everything in shadow, but the woods will look completely different without snow covering everything.

"Wait a minute, Colin! I'm coming!"

I run into the tree line, in the direction he went. Once past the edge of the trees, I slow my gate down, looking around myself. I keep going forward, over roots and around bushes. "Colin? Hey, Colin the gnome? Y'ello?!"

He comes up from behind me, putting his giant arm around my skinny frame. "Hey, what's the big idea!?" Surprised, I struggle against his grasp, but before I can do anything, something is shoved into my face with his other hand. Hundreds of leaves of a baby soft texture come in contact with my nose and cheeks. It's a flower- a big one(almost as big as my face) with hundreds of petals all pressed together. As I fight, I inhale, and as I inhale, I smell the flower.

It has a certain, sickeningly sweet scent, like maple syrup left on a stove. I fight to push it away, but something is happening to me. My limbs are getting heavy, and my mind is foggy. Splotches of black go over my vision and I find it hard to stand up.

I black out.

* * *

I come back to slowly. Sensations return. I can feel my body, lying sprawled on a hard, uneven surface. I can hear the rustling of wind in the trees. I can hear birds calling to each other. I smell a mixture of soil and pine tree sap. I open my-

I see.

I see the sky, which is blackish shade of orange- dawn sky. I see tree branches in front of said sky, their pine bunches like bushy green tails. I groan. Somehow, what I'm looking at doesn't feel right. I try to blink. The blinking doesn't seem right either.

My hand goes to my face. There is something sticky and dry on my skin, and it's not hair glue. I rub some onto my fingers, pull my hand away and look at it. It's kinda chalky and red, but slightly brown now. Blood? But who's, I wonder? I lick it off my finger, but I can divine no information form this action.

I put my hand on my face again. There is something on my face- some kind of cloth. I tug at this and feel a tug-

_Fuck no!_

Inside my skull!

I sit up. I try blinking again. The right eye blinks fine. The left eye, however...

I put my fingers over my left eye socket. I don't feel the outside of an eyelid. What I feel is cloth. Cloth that is bunched and wrapped around itself tightly inside of a snug hole...

Frantically I start pulling at this cloth, drawing it out. As I remove the ribbons from my face, I can see with my right eye that it is soaked through with blood. I keep on going until the end of the long, thin cloth falls out and onto my lap.

I'm breathily heavily now, and quickly, in gasps. My face. Even without putting my hands on it, my face feels...wrong. Like it's partially deflated or something.

I takes me a long time to do what I need to do next. My heart is pounding with dread and terror. I can't get my breathing under control.

Finally I work up the nerve. I bring my hand up to touch my face. My fingers hover over where my left eye should to be for agonizing seconds. Finally I resolve to allow my fingers to touch my face. This turns out to be a mistake as said fingers plunge into the empty eye socket.

My left eye is gone!

I scream.


	21. Twenty One: Idiots in the Woods

**I lied!**

**I've got some more chapters to post, but I'm not finished writing yet.**

**I'll delete the old text, no doubt confusing people who haven't seen it. Meanwhile, enjoy some more Billy Mischief.**

* * *

The night before, Gus had informed Ricky that it was not unusual for the young magician to disappear for a whole night, and that she shouldn't worry herself. "When he drinks, he gets it done all at once," Gus had said with a shrug "why do you think he never has any saved around? You'd think as much as he beefs about it, he'd save some for later, but that's Billy for you."

"You think he got a hold of some booze?" Ricky had asked "I think he was a little sore at the Pines brothers right now, and I don't know anyone else in the bootlegging business."

Gus shrugged "Maybe he gave up his whole 'no hooch' policy. Even city slickers have to adapt eventually."

Ricky did not laugh at the joke, and Gus went on to tell her about how when they both lived on Gus's father's property, the pale haired boy would sometimes find the magician passed out in random places in the yard. Sometimes Billy would drag himself home at some point in the last morning and casually inform Gus "'Slept in the graveyard last night. Someone's cat decided to use my face as a scratching post. Hey kid, quit laughing! That's not funny!'" Gus said, imitating a ruffled Billy Mischief. Ricky cracked a smile.

"But he hasn't done that recently," Gus went on "I think it's because he wanted to focus on this," Gus had gestured around the kitchen, though he meant to refer to the shack in general, costume shop and all.

Ricky shrugged "Maybe he wanted to celebrate. He just threw this party and got _some _kind of victory over my father- that must have put him in a good mood."

Gus nodded "I wouldn't worry about Billy. He'll show up tomorrow. Or he'll get thrown in jail- which might be the better alternative, honestly." Ricky had to agree. At least in jail, Billy couldn't come up with creative ways to hurt himself. Maybe.

Despite having this conversation, Ricky _did _worry. Sleep didn't come or, if it did, it was a disturbed sleep without dreaming that felt like no time had passed at all, so that she didn't know she had slept. She lay down on the double bed she shared with Billy as long as she was living here. A part of her didn't want to be alone, but sharing a bed with Gus felt weird and incestuous, even if Gus wasn't really related to her. Besides, Billy's sheets had his smell on them that Ricky had grown so used to. And yet without the magician really being near, it was a tease- the scent of cookies baking in the other room and you know you're not allowed to have a single one.

* * *

I get a hold of myself after I scream a few more times, making myself hoarse. For several seconds I sit on the ground with my knees pulled up by my chest, getting my breath under control. _Okay, Bill, okay. This. This is your reality now. Panicking might feel right, but it won't help you. So pull yourself together and __think__ about this!_

Let's see. I woke up in the forest missing an eye. I had it the last time I can remember, so something happened to me while I was sleeping. Well, when did I fall asleep? I shut my remaining eye to concentrate. I must have went to sleep in my bed last- I always do. Was Ricky with me this time? I...I honestly can't remember!

It's funny. The memory of me going up to the attic and getting in bed- with or without the heiress- is not there. I-...did I not sleep in my bed last night?

I concentrate on summoning my absolute last memory. Let's see. I remember telling Fiera Pitt that she wasn't smart enough to be villainous. I remember hoofing it with Ricky. And then after that...ahhhhhh...I think that, maybe, the kids might have gone home? And maybe...I talked to Gus, or something? I...I honestly don't know! I try to summon those memories, and where my recollections are usually pretty sharp, these ones are all a haze! A haze not dissimilar to a drunken haze, actually...

So that's it. The dance. After dancing with Ricky, everything falls apart. _Was _I drunk? I don't remember drinking anything except for Dr. Pitt's new concoction, and that stuff's just mada sugar and peach juice. It _is _just sugar and peach juice, right? You _can_ make a kind of wine outta peaches, can't you? Hadn't tasted like wine, though. And the other thing is that I don't feel hung over right now. I feel horrible, but a lotta this has to do with the shock of having woken up missing a sensory organ. Once I get beyond that, I feel fine, if not a little stiff.

So what the hell happened to me? Was there something in the Pitt Cola that caused me to black out? On thing I know is that, after I did lose my eye, someone was there with my knocked out self, because _someone _had the presence of mind to stuff a rag into the empty socket. So either I lost it in a drunken high or something and some good samaritan came along and stuffed my eye socket and left, or else someone removed it. The second option, as horrible as it sounds, is really more likely.

_Why would someone do this to me?!_

I immediately think of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel. They have been my enemies since before I was born, and they always will be. But what reason would they have to do this, exactly? They believe that my human self and my demon self are separate entities, and it's the demon that they hate, not Bill. So what, would taking away Bill's eye cause the demon to be weakened somehow?

It's a good thing to find out, because to wake up alone without my eye _or _my magic would be the pits! I test it. Fire works fine. Illusions, fine. I can flash in and out just dandy. And I can cause things to float. So, check, check, check and check. My magic is intact.

Believe it or not, I don't think the Mackerels did this. Then _who!? _Once again, I can't help thinking of the town doctor. Pitt Cola was the only thing I put in my mouth since the party, and I drank a lot of it, being their little spokesmonkey. On top of that, the doctor is probably the only guy in town who knows how to do surgery. It had to be him that did this.

Damn him! Why would he? What kinda sick bastard is he?

* * *

It wasn't until the afternoon that Gus really worried. Billy was usually back by now. Luckily, it was Sunday, and blue laws meant they couldn't open the store if they wanted to, so they had time to look for him.

It was like the time on Scuttlebutt Island again, only they would(hopefully) find Billy is a less demonic state and a more human one- that is, the human vice of being drunk. Gus and Ricky resolved to split up. Ricky believed that Billy might have accidently dragged himself back to Gus's dad's shed, perhaps too intoxicated to remember that he didn't live there any more. She was the one who went in that direction. For Gus, it was too awkward.

When Gus had told his father about the plan to try selling his garments at Billy's store, the man had turned quiet. Quieter than usual, in any case. Gus knew that when his father became quiet, that was when it was time to be worried. For hours, the man had just brooded. He had sat in his chair and brooded. He had walked around the property and brooded. He had cooked and eaten supper and brooded. Finally, just before Gus cleared his plate and thought he was home free, his father had opened his mouth.

"So, you want to throw away your life, do you boy?" His father's voice trembled a little, as if there was much he was holding back. Even Gus, who knew him, gripped the underside of he table as if bracing himself.

"No, Dad..." His voice sounded impossibly small.

"No? Are you lying to me, boy?" He went on "You want to waste your time- doing what? Being a seamstress? What do you plan to do in your future- go to work for a sweatshop?"

Gus shook his head vigorously "Dad! Designers and seamstresses are completely different things! There's a difference between taking orders and creating!"

"Well frankly, my boy, it all sounds like rubbish to me."

Gus looked down at his plate. He hated to see his father like this. He hated to see him angry or disappointed. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The most likely scenario was that his and Billy's business scheme would fail, and Gus would need to work in the mines anyway. Why skip that middle part?

He squeezed his fork in his hand. Why couldn't his dad just be okay with what he did? Sewing gave him joy. There was nothing in the world that even came to creating all those colorful costumes for little kids, and then seeing their faces when they wore them, transforming themselves into little pirates, tigers, and ghosts. Gus was more himself when he was behind a sewing machine or putting something to a dress form than he ever was when he was doing something 'that a man ought to do.'

Gus was surprised by the next words that came out of his mouth, because he had really expected himself to give in. "I'm sorry to hear that, Dad." In the end, Gus couldn't bare to lose something so important to himself- something so integral to him that he used it to define himself. And that was the final straw for Fuller Gleeful. He had declared that, if Gus refused to act like a son, he was no son of his.

Gus has not planned, before that night, to take Billy up on his offer to move in with him, but when he told him that he would, his best friend, was, at least, a helluva a lot more happy to have his company than his father was. Gus had smiled as they celebrated the business proposal the best way Billy knew how, never giving the magician a hint of the heartbreak that threatened to knock him to his knees. It was the one time Gus drank and, given how he felt the next day, he immediately swore it off again. After that, it had been grown much easier to ignore the hurt as they both threw themselves into the details of the fledgling business.

That was why he couldn't go to his father's house to look for Billy. Ricky just didn't _want _to go to her father's home. Gus was forbidden to return. So instead he went in the other direction. Gus had a hunch Billy might have gone into the woods. It was worth exploring the woods a little. Gus swore he wouldn't get lost.

* * *

I have thrown the bloodied rag away. It's fulfilled it's purpose and, besides, it itches when it's inside my skull. Actually, my eye socket is still itching a little. Ah, damnit! I better not have an infection or something! You'd think a doctor would do a better job at cleaning up after his surgeries than this! But then again, he's more of a family doctor than a surgical one.

It sure is a good thing I'm still wearing my Summerween costume. The string of my eye patch was hanging around my neck when I woke up and, after getting rid of the rag, I set it over my eye socket. It's not the one that's a part of my stage costume- this one is a simple black oval, and made of cheaper stuff than the one Gus made me as a gift.

I levitate myself in the air- up past the tops of the towering, eighty-foot pines that surround me. I'm trying to get my bearings, but once up there, all I see is miles upon miles of trees. Pine trees all shoulder to shoulder (or bough to bough, I suppose), going off in every direction. Yanno those adventure novels where the seafaring hero looks out around him and sees ocean in every direction- monotonous and unending? Well right now I'm floating on a sea of trees. Nothing breaks this up but for a craggy mountain in the distance, furred with pine trees at its base.

No sign of Gravity Falls. I squint and strain my eye to try to make out the top of the water tower. I can't even see the giant sized redwood that dwarfs the trees and buildings in the town. This isn't good. This isn't good! How the heck am I gonna get back to civilization? If I'm not near Gravity Falls, I could be anywhere! Am I even still in Oregon?

One of the tall, spindly trees has a nest in its top bows. A coupla birds of prey are perched on said nest. The handsome brown and white birds stare at me with furious yellow eyes. I wave at them sheepishly then start to descend, and that sets them off. They both leap from the nest, extending giant wings. Soon they are upon me with talons and curved beaks. I'm just as nimble as them in the air and I dodge them, flying close to the trunks of trees so that their giant wings get in the way when they try to follow. They wheel in the open sky above, every once in a while screeching in a threatening way- a promise of what they'll do it I try to go above the canopy again. I give them a Bronx cheer.

I settle to the ground, as there's no point in being up there if I'm still just as lost. There's really nothing for me to do now but to pick a direction and start walking that way. Since the mountain is large and steep and looks like a pain of a climb, I go in the opposite direction of that.

But I still have problems. All that screaming I did earlier has gotten me some extra attention from other parties besides the eagles.

I first become aware that I have company as I'm stumbling along over roots and old, dry pine needles. I'm hugging my arms close to me, shivering. Even though it's summer, mornings are still chilly enough for dew to form, and I'm not dressed warmly in case ya haven't noticed. Half of me is dressed for the balmy Caribbean waters(or at least, the way folks imagine Caribbean waters to be,) and the other half has fake hair stuck all over him. Believe it or not, the glued-on goat hair does not help me retain my heat.

I'm honestly not aware of them until they're right on toppa me which, thinking about how these creatures tick, is probably what they wanted. A twig snaps. A twig snaps to my left, and I turn my head, but of course, I don't really see to the left. I have to turn my head more to see where I want to see and by the time I do the wolf is already pouncing.

A surge of adrenaline goes through my body and I scurry away from the spot. I manage to move just enough so that the wolf lands on forest floor instead of one-eyed teenager. The wolf lands on its feet and snarls up at me. I back away...right into something furry and warm.

I look over my shoulder. My right shoulder if you're curious. There is another wolf there, standing up with it's side toward me so that it's back created a wall for me to walk into. It snarls as me like the first. My eyes- sorry, _eye- _not used to the terminology yet- goes back to the first wolf. Yep, he's still snarling. If he could talk, it would be death threats, I bet. Only now he has some buddies with him.

"Heh," I chuckle "I'm one ah you! See the hair?" I point to my face. I know the hair is still there because the glue itches now. "Not buying it, huh? Yeah, I wouldn't either." I mutter.

I have hesitated for too long, and they jump onto me. Ever experienced the weight of half a dozen wolves all pulling you down at once? Well I am right now! Teeth dig into my arms and paws put their full weight on my back. I'm flat in two seconds flat. I see a world of teeth- ivory white and sharp, in beds of pink with pulled back lips. And I realize, this isn't just about _dying_. It's about being pulled in several directions by hungry mouths and being chewed on and digested while your _still alive._

Fire explodes in an expanding ring around me. I dunno why I haven't tried just blasting them before. Several wolves yelp as the blue flames singe their fur and the skin underneath. The ones who are close receive large, maiming burns, and the ones further out are luckier. But given than almost every mouth had been ready to bite into my flesh, there are a lot of hurt wolves.

Of course! Because fire _hurts _living things! I keep forgetting that! Why do I keep forgetting that? I suppose because it's never been anything but a friend to yours truly. Horribly maimed wolves stumble about the area- those that can walk, anyhow. I jump to my feet. "Thinking about snacking on Billy Mischief, were ya? Well I got a better idea! How 'bout a wolf-barbeque!" I exclaim, throwing more fireballs in their direction.

My eye is on one big, grizzled fella who's running quickly around my attacks. I start throwing fire more furiously as said wolf draws nearer, but every attack misses. What the heck? I seem to either always overshoot or undershoot. I come to relieze that I'm misjudging the distance- my depth perception is shot! Worse, the wolf is clever. He moves in a zigzag pattern that makes it impossible to figure out where he'll be next, but ever second he's a bit closer to me.

"Stay back! Stay back!" I try my last option, which is turning tail and running. "Whatsa matter with ya? You're supposed to be _afraida _me!"

I realize with a jolt that that that's just it. The wolves _are _afraida me. I'm the ageless demon Triangulum- bane to all natural things. And the wolves have got that figured out. The wolves are _so _afraida me that they would rather risk life and limb to kill me than allow me to go on existing.

Once I realize this, it's kinduva dampening thought. I will _always _be hunted by God's creatures, and I'll never have any peace- except maybe from Gompers. That guy's a nonconformist. Or maybe he's just stupid- by goat standards. I'm not sure.

And it's not like it's fair either! I mean, what the heck did I slash the demon _do_ before I was me to make animals hate me this much? Giva coupla people bad dreams? At least _they _get to have dreams! They shoulda been thanking me for making sleep interesting for them!

In any case, I've got to deal with these wolves, and I've got to do it right now. I am definitely ready. I can feel my magic just itching to get out and my amulet is glowing. I finally turn around. The big wolf is on my heels, and I throw him back a few yards with my magic. The behemoth of a canine shakes himself off and starts toward me again.

"ALRIGHT!" I yell "You asked for it!" It's either the wolves or me, and it's definitely not going to be me! I extend a hand to let out a world of pain. After I'm done, the wolf won't be a wolf any more. I don't know what it will be yet, but it _will _belong to me!

Suddenly, the dawn-lit woods around me are full of bodies that have come bounding into the space. The forest is full of deer. Dozens of deer. They bound in, hooves and white tails flashing. The fella deer lower their heads threateningly at the wolves. The wolves are bulkier, but the deer are taller, and more of their number remain uninjured. The big fella who is almost on toppa me is pinned between the antlers of two deer. It's amazing. These creatures made a plan and came together to pin this guy between their antlers. The deer come apart, and charged at each other again. The second time, the wolf is gored in several places by the sharp tines.

"Or, an army of intelligent deer can come outta literally _nowhere _and kill all the wolves in fronta my face!" This is ridiculous. Since when were deer capable of _murder?_ It's not that I mind. I mean, better the wolves get murdered than me. But..."Why do deer have to be so, damn, _creepy?_" And this is _me _saying this so you know the deer are doing _something _wrong.

And then, the wolves are in retreat. _The wolves are in retreat from the attacking deer. _Just say that a few times in your head to let it sink in. Those that can walk leave, anyway. The ones that are alive but unable to leave are being trampled as I watch. This is honestly the most unbelievable thing I've yet encountered in Gravity Falls. Gus and Ricky wouldn't believe it when I tell them.

Just as quickly and as suddenly as they arrived, most of the deer split. The exception are half a dozen bucks with fantastic racks- ten points or more, who linger. Before I can consider my next move, they are making theirs. Deliberately and suddenly- they bow.

Nope. _This _is the most unbelievable thing I've seen in Gravity Falls! It looks so weird that for a minute I'm sure that all of them have all at once stumbled onto their front knees (or are they deer-elbows?). Their spindly looking legs bend under them and their bodies go down, and her heads incline as well.

I shake my head, not sure what to make of what I'm seeing in fronta my face. "You deer are so..." I mutter. What is going on? Why is this happening? Are they like, rabid or something? It doesn't make sense for wild animals to act like this. If they all jumped up and attacked at this moment, I would actually feel relieved. This is just unnerving. It's almost like they worship me or something. And while I like being worshipped, I prefer when my fans are the ones doing it.

Wait a minute...

"This isn't about me, is it? It's about the demon, right? Well, I mean, we're one in the same the same so..." I take a step toward the bowing deer "are you deer trying to _protect_ the demon insida me?"

The deer say nothing, but they do stand up and look at me impassively. The sun shines on their muzzles and I can see their coin slot eyes. I can't help but remember the last time I saw dark brown eyes with pupils like that. How can I even forget? If I could have nightmares, that would be my number one, I'm sure. Just thinking about it, flames jump to my hands.

"One ah your kind tricked me! Tried to get me killed!"

The deer do not respond to this accusation. Deers don't talk. Some of them back away when they see my flames, but they do not take flight. The deer aren't afraida me.

"Well, ya should be!" I yell, and throw a several balls of blue flames in their direction. _Now _they do as deer should- now they spring away as if they have rubber on their hooves and their bodies are made of nothing heavier than balsa wood. I'm finally alone.

* * *

Despite his promises to himself, Gus soon was lost in the monotonous forest behind the house he shared with his best friend. The pale haired boy blamed the trees. The trees were almost exclusively the same species of slender, red barked pine reaching far into the air. If there was only a mix of trees, then they wouldn't all look the same to him, and Gus wouldn't have been as hopelessly lost.

How was he supposed to help Billy if he couldn't even keep track on himself?

Though things seemed to be getting better. Or maybe he was just more hopelessly lost now, but in any case, the forest around him took on a different look. The pine trees were gone- now Gus was walking among deciduous trees with fat trunks and twisted roots. Large, green, star-shaped leaves as big as Gus's hands created an interwoven ceiling above him. Looking up, one could not see the sun, but sunlight did filter down, transformed into a bluish green color that altered the look of everything around him. The floor was a soft, light green grass, with ferns and craggy stones and mushrooms poking up out of them. But for some mushrooms caps which where a striking red, everything he saw was some shade of green- from a sickly yellow green to a lush forest green to a cool blue green.

Gus continued to walk "Billy!" He called "Hey, Billy?" Would Billy hang out in a place like this? Probably not. In all honestly, searching for him in the woods was a stupid idea. The magician hated animals, and the forest around Gravity Falls was chock full of wild animals- among other things. But it wasn't like Gus could just go back. He had to commit to this search now.

He found himself following a trail- a path between fat trees. He noticed the way the grass was bent- someone, or several people, had used this path recently. This was a relief to Gus, because if people came here often, it probably lead back to town eventually.

Gus hesitated when the path forked and into two separate directions. There was no quantifiable difference between the paths. Both had an abundance of green, both looked as wide and as mild as the other. Gus chose by using the scientific technique known as _Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe_ and continued on. Then Gus had to choose between two paths again, and was about to say the rhyme again, but he heard voices. Men's voices. The pale haired boy hurried down the left path.

The path dipped and rose again. When Gus came over the rise, he found he was walking into a half moon shaped clearing. One side of the clearing was a stone wall with a smooth surface. Several men occupied the clearing, their backs to the teenager. All the men were on one knee, and their heads were inclined forward. All of them were dressed in overalls and brown shoes. Now this was very strange indeed, Gus thought.

Even stranger was the device the teenager saw on the wall in front of gnomes and, logically, Gus. It was carved into the stone with deep grooves, and showed up boldly. On the bottom, two wide half circles parallel to each other, forming kind of a bowl. The space between the half circles was divided by nine lines, and between the lines were ten symbols Gus believed he had seen before. Above said bowl was a equilateral triangle with a vertical line dividing it, and an oval near the top, touching two sides.

Gus gasped, and too late tried to quash it. This resulted in his mouth making a curious squeaking sound. It was the symbol the man in the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel had shown Billy and him! It was the sign of the demon that Billy had inside of him!

At the sound of him, several of he men looked up and over their shoulders. Brows furrowed over bearded faces. Some of the men stood up, and Gus finally saw how tall they were. The boy's eyes widened in alarm. The red caps, the bearded faces, the giant bodies- Gus knew who these guys were! Not humans- gnomes!

* * *

I walk. I walk, and I walk, and I walk. Nothing changes. The trees next to me now might as well be the same as the trees that were next to me when I started walking. What I wouldn't kill to see some different kinda trees around here! Some elms or some oaks or some birches- then, maybe, at least I'd have some idea of whether I was going in circles or not! A couple ah times I fly up to the canopy to have a look around. The mountain, which is my one point of reference, doesn't appear to have moved at all. I'm not even sure if I'm looking at it from another angle. The worst thing about this forest is it's uniformity.

It's not like I have any lack of things to _do _though. Oh no. The forest is literally throwing activities my way. And by activities, I mean wild animals which furiously bite, claw and peck if they are allowed to get close enough. They usually don't get further than that, though, as I am quick to finish them off with flames, but they do get sadly close became my aim is _terrible_. At one point, it's almost like a person can track me by all the animals dead of burn wounds that I leave behind in my wake. I wonder if anyone _is _looking for me.

I sure hope so. For about the dozenth time (oh, who am I kidding? I lost tracka long time ago, but it's been a helluva lot more than a dozen!)I call out. "_Y'ello?!_ It anybody out _out there?! _Anybody! _Help!_"

There's no answer this time, just like there was no answer the last twenty-or-so times. I hate this. I hate this! I'm more itchy from the glue and hair stuck to my body, I have wounds from being bitten by wolves which are probably festering, my stomach is protesting loudly, my clothes are dirty and uncomfortable, I feel a headache coming on and I'm missing an eye! But the worst thing about all of this is that I'm doing it alone. There's no one to hear my shouts for help, no one to see me suffer. Usually I hate it when people see me break a sweat, but I actually wouldn't mind it now.

If an idiot dies in the woods, does anybody care?

* * *

Gus's first instinct was to run. Of course, he was facing the wrong direction; he had to turn around first. As it was, it was best to jump back up and away from the gnomes who, one by one, were rising to come after him. After nearly all of them rose, Gus finally turned around and got ready to sprint. He didn't get far, however, before the path he had taken to get here was filled up by two giant man shaped objects. The gnomes put themselves in front of Gus's escape route, their broad shoulders close together. They crossed their arms.

"Going somewhere, human-boy?" The brunette said it as kind of an insult.

Gus backed away from these and his eyes darted around the space. There was no other way out. He was trapped.


	22. Twenty Two: Return of the Multi-Bear

I've been walking all day. How long? I should be carrying a pocket watch, but I'm not. Of all the stupid outfits to have gotten lost and stranded in the woods wearing! Angrily, I pull the rest of the goat hair off my face and knuckles. It hurts when it comes off, especially the hair on my knuckles, and leaves red marks. Then I throw my eye patch into the dirt and stamp on it a few times. But the air blows into my gaping eye socket, which is very uncomfortable, so I pick said eye patch up, brush it off as best I can, and put it back into place.

I take a few moments to blast away a raccoon, a woodpecker and a 'possum that have come upon me, then I groan and lean my head against a tree. I smash my forehead into said tree several times, moaning in self-pity. "Damnit, why? _Why, why, why?_ I never did anything to deserve this!" I turn around and lean against the tree and bury my head in my arms.

_Anyone- please! I don't wanna be alone like this!_

* * *

"I admit to having some ignorance when it comes to human customs," the gnome with the flowing white beard said with a shrug. By the way the other gnomes referred to him, he seemed to be the leader. He had introduced himself as Colin "so maybe spying on religious ceremonies is normal for your kind."

They were sitting in the clearing on large boulders some gnomes had gathered from the edges. The gnomes sure were strong. Every once in a while, Gus would look up at the image in the wall of the demon triangle's sign. Knowing what he did of Triangulum, he shivered. By this time, he remembered when he had seen the signs in the half circle below. He had seen them that day Billy had lost control of his magic. They had appeared on the wallpaper in Gus's house and, later in the day, the symbols themselves had attacked Ricky.

But Gus _couldn't_ forget that. Parts of that day still made their way into his nightmares. Especially the vision of the butchered deer.

Gus scrunched his eyes "Look, Gnomes, I'm sorry. But I _wasn't _spying on you! I'm telling you, it was a mistake! I became lost in the woods looking for my friend. I thought that, when I heard your voices, you were lumberjacks or something."

The gnomes continued to question him. They seemed on edge, as if they were more afraid of Gus than he was of him. Gus didn't know why. The gnomes were the warriors of the forest. All animals feared them- and humans did too. Gus was just one fella. There were dozens of gnomes here.

Colin had leather pouch secured to his pants loop. He touched it every once in a while as he spoke out of nervous habit. The other gnomes, too, kept glancing at the leather pouch. Gus wondered what was in it. If he had been like Billy, he'd probably snatch it from the fella in one way or another and open it up, but Gus wasn't like Billy. He wasn't brave or stupid enough to do that.

Gus was noticing these things, but Colin was noticing things about Gus, and the gnome was the first to point out what he noticed. "I see you keep glancing at the carving," he said, gesturing to the wall "what is going through your mind, human?"

Gus bit his lip and tried to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He couldn't think of anything good, so he sighed at the carving. "It's just that...I think I might have seen that image in a book."

"Oh?" Colin asked, raising a fuzzy eyebrow.

Gus nodded "I mean, isn't it a demon?!" He exclaimed.

Colin's eyes narrowed and Gus braced himself physically and mentally. The gnome glanced at the wall markings as if seeing them for the first time. "Tell me, Kin of the Pantsless one, what is a demon?"

Gus took a few seconds pondering over the confusing honorific before addressing the question "What is a demon?"

"That's what _I _asked," the gnome said.

Gus swallowed an nodded "Well, yanno," he shrugged "a demon is- I mean. Demons are evil."

"Really? Are they?" Colin challenged "And what makes you say that?"

All gnome eyes were on him now. The gnomes had very pale irises. Most of them had pale blue eyes, similar to Gus's but even lighter, but some had irises a light golden color. It gave them kind of a cat-like look, though their pupils were rounded as human pupils tended to be. Gus swallowed again, and looked at the carving of Triangulum on the wall.

"Well," he gestured to said wall "_he _invades dreams, and twists people's minds so he can puppet them. He controls people!" Seeing the gnomes' expressions, he added "I mean, I heard."

"Heard from who?" Colin asked.

Gus sank on his rock "You know. Someone. A man." He added "A demon hunter."

Colin nodded sagely "Of course. A demon hunter. A _human _demon hunter, at that." He stood up and walked past where Gus sat. He faced the carving on the wall. For a second nothing was said. Then he inclined is head slightly toward the sitting boy. "To truly understand something, you must see it from multiple viewpoints. This is hard for most creatures, who have but two eyes. You've heard one point of view, and now you think you understand all you need to about the issue. But you're wrong.

"'Demon', 'monster', 'abomination'- these are the names that humans give to beings that they can otherwise classify, because they can not comprehend them. The Abstract exists outside of our reality. Our rules are not his own. The way he perceives our reality cannot even be explained to one such as you. You can't comprehend how he thinks, so what makes you think that plain words like 'good' and 'evil' can define him?"

_The Abstract. _Gus remembered Mr. V using that term. The pale haired boy opened his mouth, then closed it. "I guess you're right. So if I'm wrong about Tri- about The Abstract, then what is he?"

The gnome shrugged "Demon? Angel? Both? Perhaps his true nature can never be known by those on this plain of existence. But his actions have not all been harmful. True, chaos is his element. But people forget that entropy is not in itself a malicious thing- that it only exists to balance out structure and rigidity. You, and your kind, see The Abstract as an enemy because you are the natural beings of this world. Us gnomes, on the other hand, are strangers to this place. By that virtue, we are beings of chaos, and so we always will be."

Gus perked up. He knew what Colin was talking about. So it was true then- it was true what Mr. V had said about the portal, about gnomes being refugees from another world. And Colin went on, further confirming that Gus had heard "Not out of our choice, mind. Or ancestors came from another place- a country of their own, where they ruled like kings and had no need to separate themselves from other races. But each, one by one, they took a wrong turn, and were snatched up suddenly away from everything they knew to wind up here- in this hostile place. Do you have any idea what it's like to be lost and stranded, with no way of contacting the people you love and know again?"

Gus shook his head "I can only imagine it would be terrible," he cringed.

"I myself was born in this place," Colin explained "my father lost everything and had to start afresh. Or forefathers wandered like animals, and would have been lost without the guidance of The Abstract."

"And what did the Abstract do for you?" Gus asked.

"As I said- guided us. Came to us in dreams, and showed us where we could plant our mushroom crops and taught us how to get queens. I saw the hatred in your eyes when you first came here, Kin of the Pantsless one. How could we be sending our prayers to a creature so cruel and merciless? But you are only one foolish human, who sees things the way a human does. Now that you've been given another point of view, perhaps this wisdom will make you somewhat wiser."

Gus's pride flared at the way the gnome talked down to him- like he was a naughty child being taught a lesson. Gus didn't need to learn any lessons from gnomes- they were weird and hairy and every twenty years or so they demanded a human queen from the townspeople. That was messed up!

"So The Abstract comes to you in dreams and give you advice? Pretty helpful of the fella." He wanted to leave. The gnomes had not done anything to hurt him yet, but every moment he spent in their company was time wasted, and it wasn't like Gus wasn't occupied with something before he stumbled in on the gnome prayer half-circle. Besides, all this information about then worshipping the demon Triangulum kind of gave him the creeps. If they knew about Billy, what would they do to him?

So it was best to pretend he agreed, then get out of here. If he disagreed, they might want to keep him around to convince him.

A shadow crossed Colin's face "He did," the old gnome explained "until a time- oh, about a score ago." It took Gus a second to remember that _a score _meant twenty years. "At that time, The Abstract went silent. Stopped visiting our dreams- stopped answering our prayers."

And Gus had a hunch he knew why that was. He clamped his jaw, fearful that the gnomes would be able to figure out that he knew something. To draw attention from this fact, he'd have to say something else. "That's really sad. Oh well. I guess he forsook you. I guess you have to stop worshipping The Abstract now, right?"

Surprisingly, Colin flashed a confident smile "The Abstract has _not _forsaken us. He never would. He simply became lost, and needs assistance finding his way home." He narrowed his eyes and looked down at Gus "_You _wouldn't know where he went to, would you?" He thumbed the pouch on his belt loop.

His heart pounded in his chest, and the pale haired boy begged his face not to show any of what he was feeling right now. The costume designer wanted to jump up and flee, find Billy, and tell him never to get within 100 feet of the gnomes. But that wasn't an option. His nervousness came out as laughter, and Gus rolled with that. He chuckled at the gnome. "I'm justa kid! What would I know about lost demon-gods or whatever? Why?" He asked, "Do _you _know?"

* * *

I've fallen asleep, but not for long. My unique trait of never having experienced a dream means that I never nap without realizing time has passed. I've fallen asleep, but I'm awake again for some reason. I lift my head up, then tip back my tricorne hat. Egg shaped yellow eyes look at me threateningly behind a muzzle full of large, sharp teeth. Behind the ears are a paira rounded ears, and behind these, I can see the muzzles of other bears.

"Fuck my luck!" I exclaim, scrambling up.

"Relax, Master." The words come out at the same time the front bear head is moving its muzzle, and I realize that the head is talking to me. "We are not here to kill you."

I am standing now, my back pressed up against the pine tree, my heart pounding in my chest, my breaths heavy. Now that I have a different vantage point, I can get a good look at the bears. Or rather, bear. A single bear body with eight bear heads and eight bear legs.

"Multi-Bear! Boy, you have no idea how glad I am to see a familiar face!"

"Well, it's good to be appreciated." The main head of Multi-Bear says deadpan.

"Am _I_ lucky ya came this way!" I let out a breath and get myself together.

"No luck was involved," Multi-Bear states flatly "you called me, Master, so I came. As is my duty." With one giant claw he points to something above my head "I believe that they, too, followed the call." My eyes follow him up. Fluttering in the air above me are about a one eyed human skulls with bat wings, jockeying for position.

"My skull-bats! I almost forgot about those guys!"

"On top of that," Multi-Bear went on "on my way here I passed the largest lake, and I saw a giant serpent trying to climb the bank. Another of your creations?"

"That would be Gobblewonker," I say with a nod. "Not to shabby if I do say so myself! But Multi-Bear, I don't get it. Why are all my creations trying to get here?" It's not that I really mind, though. It beats all the animals that wanna kill me, or those creepy deer.

The Multi-Bear lets out a breath through one of his heads. I realize that it's a sigh. He _is_ a bear- or eight bears- so it's kinda hard to read his emotions on his face the way I would a person. "As I said, you called for us." Ok, ok, I think he's annoyed now.

I twist up my mouth "I did?"

Multi-Bear lets out another grumpy breath.

I glance up at the skull-bats. They've lost interest in me and are wheeling in the air together- playfully nipping at each other. I smile because the things are awful cunnin' with their oversized, one-eyed skull heads and those darling leathery wings. Multi-Bear is watching me, expressionless. I shrug "Well, ah, I wanted _somebody_ to be here. I guess I got you guys!" I think about it for a few more seconds "So, I can pretty much summon the creatures I've created with my mind?"

"You did not know that?" Multi-Bear is incredulous...I think.

I shake my head "Not a bad trick, I gotta admit! I'll remember that one- might come in handy later!"

"Right," Multi-Bear says "well, I _am _here, so how can I assist you, Master?"

* * *

The gnomes continued to question him and cross-examine him. It was a lot easier not to give anything away at first. It grew more difficult at time wore on. He tried sticking to his story of accidently happening on the gnomes, and not knowing any more about Triangulum but for than what he had told the gnomes earlier. If Mabel hadn't shown up, he might have spilt the beans.

The pale haired boy did not recognize Mabel Trembley when he first saw her. The last six months had changed her appearance in subtle ways. She now wore her blond hair up in a complicated bun, and said bun was pinned with hundreds of tiny baubles from the forest- robin egg shells, and flowers, and stones that gleamed, and blue jay feathers, and ivory snail shells. She looked like a princess from a fairy tale. Her face radiated kindness, and her dress was made of the same blue material the gnomes wore, but of a much more intricate design that accentuated the lines of her body while at the same time giving her freedom of movement.

Gus took in the details of this. Who would have thought those smelly gnomes could create something so beautiful? It made him want to get home to his sketch book and his dress form and try recreating the design. All the same, he had an eye for fashion, and he was able to see that the dress was specifically made to draw attention away from something. Gus took note of it anyway.

Mabel walked into the circle of gnomes, and each of them bowed with reverence. _They worship her, _Gus realized. Then she lifted her skirt a little to walk over a stone, and Gus saw the shackles on her ankles, joined together by a chain. _Being worshipped comes at a price._

She was very confused as to why a human was in the domain of the gnomes, and when she realized who Gus was, she greeted him kindly. Mabel was seven years older than Gus, so you couldn't say they were close. But she had babysat for the young boy a couple of times when he was very young.

"Fellas," she said, her tone even but with a tremble of warning "I've been waiting for you for nearly an hour. The laundry isn't going to get done itself! You promised me you would clear the fish and algae from the laundry pool and here it is, Sunday afternoon, and it's still not finished!"

The gnomes cringed under the weight of her nagging and several jumped up. "Wait a minute," she said, the gnomes stopped in their tracks. Mabel pointed to Gus "what about him? _He _can't stay here. He's not a gnome or a queen." She pointed out.

The gnomes exchanged glances "But _Queen Mabel...!"_ Colin begged.

Mabel shook her head "If I let you keep one boy, Colin, the next thing you know Ray will want to have a pet human of his own, and Jim will want a few, and then before you know it we'll have humans running all over this place! No, Colin, no!" She crossed her arms and tilted her head "I'm sorry, but I just can't have it."

Colin sighed "I'll show you the way out, boy."

As he lead Gus out through the passage between trees, the pale haired boy turned and caught Mabel's eye. He mouthed a silent 'Thank you'.

* * *

Gus felt like hours had passed with the gnomes, but it was late June, so the sun was still out by the time he got back the Shack. Before walking through the door, he silently wished that there would be no surprises waiting for him on the other side. He didn't get his wish. There was a good and a bad surprise waiting for him. The good surprise was that Ricky and Billy were both sitting at the kitchen table.

"And then Multi-Bear told me that the Gravity Falls was just on the other side of the mountain!" He heard his friend's voice from the hall" I had been going the wrong way the whole time! Irony, huh?"

Gus let out a large sigh as he entered the kitchen "Oh, Billy- thank god you're back!" He walked into the kitchen past them. There was some coffee brewed on the stove so Gus poured some for himself.

Billy turned away from what he and Ricky had been doing, annoying the female greatly. He flashed his signature shit-eating grin "God has nothing to do with me," he said playfully "but thanks!"

"Billy, keep your head still!" Ricky snapped. She seemed tense, sitting up out of her seat, almost leaning over Billy. Taking sips of his coffee, Gus moved in closer. Ricky was wrapping half of Billy' head up with some kind of bandage. Not only that, but Billy's arms and legs and chest were patched up with bandages and gauze as well, in various places. Gus blinked. What on _earth _had happened to his friend?!

Once Ricky was satisfied with her work, she secured the bandage. "_There._ Now I don't want to see that come off for three days! I still think you're an idiot for not going to the doctor, Billy Mischief!"

Billy scoffed "And let him take the _other _one? Fat chance!"

Gus moved around the table, sipping his coffee "Um, Billy, did you get hurt or something?"

"_Did _I?" Billy's face was split by a wild grin. "Get a slant, Gus!" He tore the bandage away from his face. Gus screamed when he saw the black hole of the empty eye socket, and Billy laughed heartily at his screaming, holding his gut and tipping his head back, clearly very amused. But Ricky was not amused at all.

"William Mischief Cipher!" She thundered, stomping one foot. Her face was red and her lips pulled back. Billy straightened up in his chair, and even Gus's coffee jostled a little bit, even though she hadn't been yelling at _him_. Billy looked down at the bandage in his hands. "Uh. Oops. Heheh..."

She pointed at the chair he had just left "Sit your ass down right now, Mister!" He sat, and so did she, and she began the process of applying the bandage again. Gus could see that she had found the task difficult the first time and was not looking forward to doing it again.

Billy sat sheepishly and tried not to move his head as he spoke "Look doll...I'm sorry...I just couldn't resist it, yanno? And you saw Gus's face! He was petrified!" He started to laugh, but Ricky gave him a glare, and he stopped.

Getting bored, Billy started to talk to entertain himself. "Yanno, maybe loosing that eye wasn't so bad after all. Just think of what a hit I'll be at parties now! Oh, that's it!" He exclaimed, and Ricky almost had to grab a hold of his shoulders to get him to stand till "I _will _get a glass eye- a perfect match to my real one. And when I _really _wanna freak people out, I'll 'lose' it. If Gus's reaction was any indication, then that trick outta be a real hoot!"

Ricky simply shook her head and grumbled, "It's really not nice to pick on Gus all the time like that."

"Awww, the kid's _fine. _Ain'cha, Gus?" Billy asked without looking at him.

Gus nodded "Just surprised as _hell, _Billy. What the heck happened?"

Billy's face became stormy "Dr. Pitt. _He's _what happened." He balled his hands into fists "I tell ya, when I get alone with that guy..."

"As I told you before," Ricky said evenly "you're being ridiculous. Mr. Pitt left the party way before you disappeared. Just because you don't remember doesn't mean I don't."

Gus shook his head "Wait a minute. Does Billy have amnesia too?"

"There," Ricky announced "done. Now," she said, glaring at Billy "if you remove that bandage one more time, I think I'm gonna kill you. Savvy?"

Billy crossed himself casually "Cross my heart and hope to die, Ricky, but if ya don't mind, I'm _not_ gonna stick a needle in my eye!" Then, after a moment's thought, "_Unless_ we find the detached one. Then, maybe Gus can use it for pincushion! How do ya like that, Angus?" Billy said, putting his arm around the younger boy's shoulder "You'd be the only guy in town who uses his buddy's eyeball as a pincushion! You could setta new trend, pal! The most macabre trend ever to reach Gravity Falls, I bet! Everybody'll be chasing their friends around with rusty spoons! It'll be a real hoot, I'm telling ya!"

Gus groaned. Ricky's deep annoyance at the magician was finally starting to rub off on him. "Are ya sure you didn't take your _own _eye out, so that you'd have an excuse to make all these terrible jokes?"

Billy's face darkened and he pulled away from Gus. "Yes Gus, I am sure. Look pal," he said. "I woke up in the woods, _on the other sida the mountain, _with no idea which way was home. I was like this! And it _stunk_. I was all bloody and my depth perception was- is- all messed up and animals kept trying to kill me!" He took a breath. "So yeah. I had a bad day and, don't get me wrong, I'm _seething_ about this. But I'm also glad to be back. Among human beings. Who don't want me dead! So it if bothers ya that I'm making jokes about my new status as a cyclops, that's _your _problem!"

Billy had done it. Now Gus felt guilty. "I'm just glad you're okay- and not missing anything else!"

"Me too!" Billy piped up, but got a concerned look on his face "I mean, I think I-!" He then unbuttoned his trousers and took a look "Yep! Not missing anything!"

Gus facepalmed. He could feel said face getting hotter by the second.

"If you keep making stupid jokes like that," Ricky growled "you just _might be _missing it by the end of the night!"

"Yikes!" Billy said, pulling away from the girl "I think I know where my eyeball went. Musta crawled up _your _ass and died!"

Ricky stuck her arms straight to her side, her hands in fists, her face turning as red as a tomato "Billy Mischief, you are a know-nothing fool! You _coulda died _you idiot!" With that, she turned on a heel and stomped out of the room.

After she was gone, there was an uncomfortable silence between the remaining boys. Billy rubbed the back of his neck, but his fingers wandered up his head and started to pick at the corners of his new bandage. "You'd better not, Billy," Gus warned him "you know what Ricky said. _And _how she is right now."

Billy twisted his mouth, then he shrugged and nodded, and put his hands to his side "Easier said than done. I'm no good at leaving well enough alone," he gestured to the door Ricky had just exited through "exhibit A."

"It's been a long time since I've seen her _that _mad." Gus observed, and Billy sighed.

"You shoulda seen her when I walked through the door. You were lucky when you came in. She already had me cleaned up by then. When _she _first saw me, I was all bloody and muddy and scratched up. She turned even whiter thana sheet. Acted like it was my corpse she saw walking through." He leaned on the wall heavily "I scared her- more than what was OK."

Gus shook his head and sighed, "You really don't remember this happening to you, Billy?"

The magician raised his visible eyebrow "Kid, ya that think that if I was conscious, I woulda _let _it happen? Me- Bill Cipher- the guy who can shoot fire and throw people around like rag dolls?"

Billy made a very good point. Because he hadn't said it before, Gus said, "I'm sorry, Billy."

"Why? Where _you _the one that did this?" He had the hint of an amused smile on his face "Because I hate to have to torture my best friend to death, but payback _is _payback!"

Gus snorted "No Billy, of course not! I saying it in the sense of, I feel bad that you're suffering."

"Well save your pity, kid," Billy pushed off of the wall "your pal Billy's just fine- as keen as he ever was. Hey! I never asked ya: what kept _you _out so late?" He grinned devilishly "Finda girl? Were ya necking at Lookout Point?" He lifted Gus's chin with his thumb "Well, I don't see any hickeys on ya, but maybe she's just not inta that..."

_"Billy!"_ Gus blushed again and pulled away "Yeah right- I wish! I was with the gnomes all day."

"The gnomes?" He raise an eyebrow "Funny. That's the actually the last place I'd guess! I mean I'd think you really _did _take a girl up to Lookout Point before I'd guess that you were with those guys!"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't my idea," Gus said, blushing suddenly, but did not argue with Billy about his inability to get a date. Why argue with facts? "I got lost looking for you, and I wandered into their Forest, and I saw this..." the words died in his mouth and he sucked air through his lips. He looked at Billy, who had his bandaged head tilted slightly, waiting for him to go on. "I saw..."

"Yeah, Gus?" Billy prodded "Yanno, usually when a fella says the words 'I saw' it's followed by a noun. 'I saw a train', 'I saw a gorgeous doll,' 'I saw a guy getting pinched by the fuzz'- something like that."

Gus swallowed. Up until this point he had wanted to tell Billy all about the gnomes the way they regarded the triangular demon that the magician was so familiar with. Only now, talking to him, did he realize what a bad idea that was. For one thing, Billy never did what he was told- especially when it was for his own safety. He thought authority was a joke. But for another, Billy had fascinated with the demon Triangulum ever since learning of its existence. It was to the point where he had fostered a delusion of _himself_ being the demon who happened to be inhabiting a human's body! If Gus told him about the gnomes and their weird Triangulum cult, Billy would go there right away. Billy had a lot of confidence in his abilities, but he had never seen gnomes at their full power.

"I saw Mabel Trembley."

Billy perked at that, surprised "Oh- really? And how is the Queen ah the Gnomes?"

Gus nodded and shrugged "She's, good." He smiled weakly "Really keeps those gnomes in line."

_She's pregnant too, but who needs to talk about that?_


	23. Twenty Three: Eye See You

When I go upstairs, Ricky is up there, already in the bed we share. I get in on my side and slide in over to her, but she rolls over and turns her back to me. The way her back is bent, it's a clear message. "What gives, Ricky?" I question, miffed.

"I just don't want any of that tonight, Billy." She says, pulling half the blankets tighter around her "You need to rest your injuries."

Because she pointed them out, I feel an urge to scratch myself under my bandages again. She says "I'll stay here and make sure you don't take your dressings off. Stop that, Billy!" A hand shoots out from under the blankets and swats my hand away from my own head. She glares at me.

I try to convince her to cuddle, using every trick I know, even fluttering those eyelashes (or I guess- eyelash), which usually makes her so crazy. But she'll have none of it. I give up and retreat to my sida the bed, my back turned to her. My dressings are itchy and my hands keep fingers keep finding their way under them. All I wanna do it scratch a little to relieve the itching, but I swear, every time I start, Ricky's hand it there, slapping my hand away. I groan and roll over in bed. Ricky is facing me now.

"You're always watching!" I complain.

"You bet I am!" She groans, "Dealing with you is like dealing with a kid, I swear."

I reach a hand up and play with a lock of her short hair, then give a goofy smirk "Yanno, Ricky, ya wouldn't have to keep stopping me like that if there was something to distract me!"

She swats my hand away "You're in no physical state," then she rolls her eyes, "Billy, I'm telling you, there is _no way_ Dr. Pitt did this to you! He can help you, you one-eyed idiot- but not as long as you refuse to let him even see you! Billy, what if you get a scar from one of those wolf bites?"

I shake my head vigorously "Ricky, I'm telling ya! The doc did it! Think about a minute, Ricky! Who else can do surgery? Besides that- whoever did it used _something _to knock me out. But the only thing I ate or drank all that night was that concoction ah his," I put my hand where my stomach it "holy isosceles, if I never see a peach pit again it'll be too soon!"

Ricky rolls her eyes "We _all _had Pitt Cola, Billy!"

"You, but you weren't the Doc's little salesmonkey! Do ya have any idea how much of that crap I gulped down last night? How many times I ran to the privy? I'm telling ya- the drug only works in large doses."

Ricky smacks her hand to her forehead "Oh, right, Billy, now I get it!" She says sarcastically "Of course! So Dr. Pitt set up everything so that you would promote his drink, thereby getting a fatal dose of whatever knocked you out so that he could drag you to his lair and take out your eye."

"And then he dumped me in the woods- forget about that!"

"Of course," Ricky groaned, rolling over "_then _he drags you all the way out into the woods, on the other side of the mountains, without being noticed by a single soul! And he somehow does this in less than an hour because an hour after the party got over he's at Roderick Pines' place helping deliver their new baby."

I blink "Roddy's a pops?" Then I add "Congrats." I scratch the back my neck where the bandage attaches, but Ricky once again bats my hands away. I sigh, annoyed. "Well, I dunno. Maybe the doc hadda horse or something. A _really fast _horse."

Ricky groans, exasperated "Alright Billy, fine. _Fine. _Let's just say you're right. Let's just say Dr. Pitt did all of this, despite how impossible it would be for him to get away with it. _Why? _Why would he do it? What possible motive could the Gravity Falls family doctor have for taking out your eyeball, Billy?"

"Because he's screwy, alright?!" I sit up in bed suddenly "Insane people don't need motive! They're just nuts! Look, his kid's only gotta a _little bit _ah his crazy. He's the _real _nutcase!"

Ricky groans again "He helped deliver all the babies born in this town, including Gus, Yukon and me. He helped me with all my earaches when I was little. He's not some kind of maniac, Billy. He's a good guy."

I huff "Well if he didn't do it, who did?"

Ricky frowns, and puts her hand on my shoulder "I don't know." She says honestly, and then with more fire in her tone "But they won't get away with it!"

Hours later we seem to be on better terms, but Ricky still insists I'm in no condition for cuddling. She has plenty of energy to keep slapping me to make sure I keep my hands off myself, however. Finally I arrange my half of the sheet and the pillow in such away that my hands are pinned under said pillow. It's hard to resist picking at the bandages, it really is! Ricky tried hard but first aid isn't the best. If I trusted the doc, I'd go him right away, but how can you trust a guy when he's stolen one of your sensory organs? I stare up into the ceiling, studying the way the timbers come in at an angle. The math is perfect- I checked it over dozens of times in my head! This structure is quite sound. You'd needa wrecking ball to knock it over!

I play a game of opening and closing my eye to see what I can see. My darkened room. Then black. Then my room. Then black. This was more fun back when I had two. I think everyone plays "games" to try to get to sleep at night, but, eh maybe not. Maybe I'm a weird bird even in that regard. Anyway, here's one thing I used to do. I used to like to focus on a close object and open and close my eyes, watching how the object appeared to move a centimeter or so based on the slight difference in point of view. Can't do that anymore.

So I stare up at the ceiling and do what usually puts me into a lull: I think about angles. Right angles and acute angles and obtuse angles. I look at the angles in the rafters of the room and plot out their numbers. I move my head slightly and observe the way the angles appear to change, plotting out the decimal differences between them and what they were before. I don't want to come off as a wise head, but I've always been unusually good at math. I can hear Ricky breathing steady next to me. She's sleeping now.

Sleep tugs at the corners of me and I shut my eye.

_Gus is sleeping in his bed. He whimpers in his sleep "No, not the eye..."_

_A 'possum has gotten into Gus's studio. He's rummaging through his silks._

_A porcupine is in the yard. It's in no particular hurry as it pulls bark off a tree and stuffs this into its mouth._

My eye snaps open.

What the hell was all _that?!_

I'm still laying on my back, staring up at the place where two sides of the steep roof meet. My eye darts around the room, looking for Gus or a 'possum or a porcupine. But they aren't here. They're not even in this room.

No...no. How could I have been looking outside this room? That's a physical impossibility. I go to put my hand on my forehead but said hand is trapped so I don't. I simply shake my head and blow out from between my lips. I must be...tired. Tired and seeing things. I did wander through the woods for several hours straight, after all.

I shut my eyes again. Sleep creeps on to me once more.

_Gus shudders in his sleep and pulls the blankets around him._

_The opossum has left the studio, but now the window is open, and a slight breeze moves some corners of loose fabric._

_The porcupine hears something. It cocks its head and looks around itself, back bristling defensively._

Once again my eye snaps open, this time with a gasp. This time, I sit up in bed, which takes a minute to due the trap I made for my arms. I rub the unbandaged part of my face, then resort to scratching myself under the bandage for a good twenty seconds until I catch myself.

I groan and shake my head. _What is going on?_ Why do I keep, seeing things, whenever I close my start to sleep? Gus's bedroom, his studio, the yard- this is all stuff around the Shack. I've never experienced anything like this, which is why it takes me a while to figure out what it might be.

My eye shines with excitement, and I nudge Ricky's shoulder. "Ricky! Ricky! Ricky! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!"

Ricky startles awake, "No, not the eye! What?" she blinks and looks around herself; looks up at me. She studies my face for a few seconds "Billy? What is it? What's going on?"

My face is split by a satisfied grin "I just had a dream!" I then explain "Two'avum!"

Ricky blinks and studies my face, then she frowns deeply, and then she sighs and drops her head on her pillow. "Ok?" She says "So you head a dream. You woke me up to tell me about it?" She growls, annoyed.

I blink "But," I say "Ricky! I never hadda dream before! It was just so..." I twist my mouth. What _was_ it?

Ricky sighs, rubs her eyes and says "Okay, Billy. I'm awake now, so why don't ya tell me. What did ya dream about?"

I tell her. I tell her about both dreams- how they sort of picked up from one another. She opens one eye and looks at me from under her arm.

"That's it?"

I frown "Not much for a first ever dream, is it?"

She finally smiles. It's that playful smile she had when I first met her, as if she knows a secret about you that you have yet to figure out. "Well, Billy Mischief, I guess you just need practice." She sits up in bed and kisses my cheek. "How are your bandages holding up?"

"Fine."

"Not touching them, are you?"

"No, Ricky. I've been a good little demon," a say with a small smile.

She leans her head on my shoulder. "Go to sleep. And don't wake me up again unless something happens in the _real _world!" She kisses me goodnight and wraps the blankets back around her. I sit for a few more minutes, literally watching her fall asleep. I watch the way he muscles relax once sleep takes her, and I watch her eyes. When people are finally sleeping, their eyes move. You can kind of tell they're moving they're eyeballs around beneath their lids. It's kinda paradoxical and people don't get why this happens.

I finally lay myself down and allow myself to relax too, and finally sleep, for a third time.

_Gus is awake. He's sat up in bed and reaches for a glass of water of the nightstand._

_The 'possum has returned- with her mate._

_The porcupine has climbed the pine tree to pull bark offa higher parts of said tree._

Once again, my eye snaps open.

It's _still _happening?

* * *

Gus was tired by the time he woke up the seventh time, but this time, the sun was shining brightly though the stained glass window in his room, distracting him away from the sleep that he sought. Better to get up, anyway. At least if he was awake, he wouldn't have to deal with any more nightmares of his friend eyeballs rolling out of their sockets.

The floorboards creaked as he went downstairs. Upon reaching the hallway, he turned into the kitchen where he found Billy furiously scratching away at the paper in a notebook with a pen. The boy, full of some kind of hyper energy, noticed Gus as soon as he appeared in the door and dropped his pen. He stood up and crossed the space between the chair he had been sitting at and Gus in a few seconds.

"Gus! I gotta ask ya something: Did you have a nightmare last night?"

Gus blinked. It was a strange way to start a conversation, and it was also the first conversation he had all day, so it was a strange way to start the day, too. But Gus had been living with Billy for the past month, so he had more of a tolerance for strange now.

"Actually," Gus said, rubbing some sand out of his eyes "I did. How did you know?"

Billy went on, speaking even faster than usual. "And this one time, you moaned in your sleep, 'no, not the eye'-."

Gus blinked and regarded his one eyed friend suspiciously "I did?" He asked, then rubbed his face "I mean, I had a lot of dreams about eyes last night..._your eye, _in particular, Billy, or rather, that empty socket." He shuddered "I wish you hadn'na shown me that, pal." He frowned "But how did ya know that? Were you watching me sleep?"

"Yes!" Billy exclaimed, his wide, his face muscles stretched and manic. His eye had a black bag under it. It looked like he, too, had had trouble sleeping.

"Why?"

"I don't know, Gus! But come with me! I wanna show ya something!" Before Gus could even consider saying so, Billy had him by the arm and was dragging him into the hall and out the door. The two boys ran across the yard in their PJs. Billy brought Gus to the edge of the clearing and stopped. Gus looked around himself. "I don't see anything-"

Billy pointed grabbed Gus roughly by the other shoulder and pointed at a tree in front of them. "Look, Gus! Look at the bark!"

Sleepy, confused, annoyed, Gus observed the tree "Some of the bark is stripped. Looks like a porcupine got to it."

"EXACTLY!" Billy exclaimed, roughly shaking Gus's shoulders "A porcupine!"

Gus frowned "Okay. I don't get it. Since when do you sweat about porcupines?" After a few second's thought he asked "Did one attack you?" He moved away from Billy so that he could look him over "I don't see any quills in ya..."

Billy huffed and rolled his eye "No, Gus! What I saw last ni- wait. I didn't tell ya, did I?" He shook his head "Gus! I saw this!" He gestured to the tree "I watched it happen!"

Gus shrugged "Porcupines eat bark. It's just a thing that happens." He frowned "Are you _that_ upset about the tree?"

Billy stamped his foot "Ya don't understand, kid! I _watched_ this!"

Gus shrugged and put his hands up. He had no idea what Billy was on about. Billy sighed with exasperation and put his hand on his temple. "Ok, I'll try to explain it from the beginning." He then told Gus about how he had experienced dreams the night before, but instead of seeing his friends with bleeding eye sockets, he saw mundane things going on about the Shack. Gus failed to see why these things disturbed Billy so, especially given his own dreams.

"But they weren't dreams," Billy asserted, "they were visions. Everything I saw actually happened. The porcupine in the tree, your nightmare- everything!" He said, extending his arms wide.

Gus narrowed his eyes, then shook his head "Are you sure you weren't, I dunno, sleep walking last night? And the things you walked by, you incorporated into your dream?"

Billy shook his head "I was in bed all night last night. Well until I figured out I couldn't sleep. Gus, I'm telling the truth here! I'm like, clairvoyant or something!"

"Or maybe you're just really tired?" Gus suggested.

"Yeah I am! Because I didn't sleep last night! Because the visions kept me up!" His face twisted suddenly "You don't believe me, do ya?" He grabbed Gus's shoulders again "I'm telling ya, I really watched this," he gestured to the mottled tree "happen. I saw it from-" his eye traveled to a place behind Gus, and up. Finally they stopped moving up and settled on something. "Triangle..." He whispered.

"What?" Gus asked. Billy was looking back at the house/costume shop. Then, with suddenly quickness, he darted across the yard. "Billy!" Gus shouted, groaned, and ran after him. He chased the older boy across the yard, through the door to the emporium, up and the hall and-

Gus glanced at his studio as he passed the doorway to it, then his shoulders tensed and he came to stop. Angling his body so he could see inside the room, he took a longer gander. His studio was in shambles. Dress forms were knocked over, fabric was spread out on the floor, his thread and needles scattered about. "Oh my god! What happened in here? It looks like a family of rats had their way in here!"

"Not rats!" Billy called from up the hall "'Possums!"

* * *

I come skidding into my room, then rush over to the window. The double bed is directly in fronta said window, as I like sleeping in the perfect middle of the triangle the roof creates. I hop on the bed, still in my shoes, and walk to the head. I don't even notice the commotion by my feet as I get to the window and crouch down to stare out the window and, not satisfied with that, I press my face up against the glass.

This. This viewpoint. This was exactly the angle I watched the porcupine from last night. Not looking out the window-

"I _was_ the window!" I declare into the glass.

"What the hell, Billy!? What kinda to way to waka girl up was was that?!"

I blink. Someone is in the room with me. I slowly turn my head and look at Ricky- or at least, I think it's Ricky. The girl on the sida the bed is tall and leggy, wearing a pale peach nightgown, with short raven hair and pale-ish skin. But her hair is a crow's nest, and her face seems somehow paler than usual, and there are bags under her eyes, and her lips seem, somehow, smaller.

"What were trying to do? Trample me? I nearly had a heart attack!" The girl with Ricky's voice continues to berate me.

"Ya look weird without your makeup on." I inform her.

She throws a pillow at my face. Hard.

* * *

Well, Ricky was awake now, so there was no point in going back to bed. "My boyfriend just tried to use me as a rug. That _kind of _puts me off the idea of sleeping more."

Billy looked sorry at first, but a wicked grin pushed his apparent remorse away "_Yanno, _Ricky, in some partsa San Francisco, guys'll pay a alotta money to have-"

Ricky throw another stuffed projectile at him "I'm not paying you anything, Billy!"

He put his hands in the air before him "Perish the thought, doll! I'm sayin that if ever ya wanted to get payback, I'd be more than willing to pay you a littl-"

Ricky threw the third pillow at Billy and, with that, she was out of pillows. "Get offa there, you goof, before I start throwing the furniture. What were you doing up there, anyway?"

Billy sat down on the bed and, in a very manic type of way, spoke about strange visions he had been seeing. Ricky sat down next to him and tried her best to listen. Billy was jumping ahead a lot- not making a lot of sense. Ricky frowned, because his mania reminded her that day they had spoke at Lookout Point, and Billy had foolishly handed the amulet he used to protect himself from his powers to her. And of course, like a fool, she had taken it; hadn't trusted her instincts, and had let Billy talk her into helping him to harm himself.

Even now, six months later, Ricky felt a dull pain when she thought of that day and the one ensuing. She had gone over the drive home several times. Billy had been animated- more so than usual, almost tripping on his tongue talking about just about everything- everything he saw- the snow, the water tower, the birds. He had been in such a good mood, and making Ricky laugh so hard, she had never considered that something might be wrong.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!_ She now chastised herself. _Why didn't you notice that his smile was too tight? Why didn't you notice they his eyes darted around, as if he thought he was being watched? Why didn't you refuse to take his amulet?_

How many times had Ricky tortured herself over this? A hundred times? More? A pointless practice, really, as Billy had been just fine for the past six months. But now, Ricky could see the signs once more: the tight smile, the eye that darted back and forth.

Just to be safe, she cut into his ceaseless rambling to ask him "Billy, where is your amulet?"

"Huh? My what? My amulet?" He reached into s shirt, and pulled out the turquoise stone on the chain "It's right here, doll! But Ricky, _listen-!"_

His eye had a look gray bag hanging from it, which Ricky took to mean that sleep had come difficultly for the magician. How could she blame him? All bandaged up as he was, and having gone through what he had just gone through. Not just waking up with one eye, but wandering lost for so many hours. Ricky was afraid he might suffer from sunburn and dehydration as well as he wounds from the pack of wolves, and she inwardly cursed the boy for being such a knucklehead and refusing to see the doctor.

And now he was ranting about windows and porcupines. Ricky shook her head, completely unable to keep up. She gestured to the window. "You can see out this window. So? I can see through it just fine, too."

Billy groaned and shook his head, clearly frustrated with Ricky's inability to get the whole picture "Not _out _of it, Ricky, _through _it!"

Ricky cocked her head "Explain the difference."

Billy got to his feet and put his hands in the air as if demonstrating something. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and swallowed his breath. He folded his hands behind his back and paced in front of Ricky a couple of times. Then he came to a stop. He spoke again.

"It's like...it's an eye."

Ricky looked at the triangular window. She looked at both the glass pane and the frame. "What?" She asked. Nothing about the window even resembled an eye.

But Billy nodded "It's like, insteada one eye, I've got dozens!" He said, gesturing largely.


	24. Twenty Four: The Tree's Hat

Ricky and Gus opened the store that day. It went nicely. The night before, the children of Gravity Falls had come home wearing the lovingly sewn costumes made by Gus. Their parents, their siblings, their aunts and uncles- they had had their curiosity peaked. They may have noticed that the designs had better quality than those available at the Gravity Falls Costume Mart. In any case, a number of adults walked through their showroom that day- browsing, trying things on. Ricky and Gus even made a couple of sales.

That evening, Gus was counting the cash drawer. He frowned "This _still_ doesn't cover our costs," he said. "We're going into debt faster than we can keep up. We didn't even break even with Summerween!" His shoulders sagged.

Ricky frowned. She may not have been aware of all the details, but she knew how much Gus struggled with his father's opinions of his craft. She wanted this to work out just as much as he did. It could have been that, because of her new rebellious attitude, she had an urge to defy fathers in general, but Gus truly was one of the most important people in the universe to her, and she wanted him to be happy. If his happiness hinged on the success of this store, then she wanted the store to thrive.

"Maybe," she said "you should really consider having the costume shop as a side business. It _really _is quite niche."

Gus sighed "I'm gonna have to! If I wanna sew at all, I'll have to become a tailor." He cupped his chin on his hand sadly "I have great ideas for designs, too!"

Ricky squeezed his arm "So your dream is outta reach today. You're still a kid! You haven't even gotten out of high school yet!"

Gus smiled, unconvinced. It pained Ricky to see her friend like that, but she didn't know what else to do.

"I'm going to check on Billy." She informed Gus. She had sentenced the young magician to stay in bed after hearing his rant about dozens of eyes. Clearly his lack of sleep was affecting his mental state- making him more or less delirious. Of course, Billy had not taken to the idea when Ricky had suggested it. In fact, he had laughed in her face and straight out told her no- that he was perfectly fine to function. What had followed was something of an argument. Ricky disliked arguing with Billy, so she trying changing tactics.

"If you don't get into that bed and get some rest, I'm going to...sell all your hats!"

Billy looked aghast at this "_Alla _them? What kinda twisted, dark enchantress are ya?"

"I'll do it," Ricky warned "don't tempt me! They'd fetch a nice coupla dimes second hand."

Billy had pulled the hat he was wearing over his ears protectively "Threatening a man's headwear-ya don't play fair, Ricky!"

Ricky had crossed her arms and stepped close to Billy "Billy, I'm serious: sleep. Please. Do I have to beg? For once, do what's wise instead of what's fun."

Billy gazed into her dark brown eyes for a few seconds, then sighed "I _am _kinda tired," he admitted.

Ricky smirked "_Kinda _tired?"

Billy grinned "Yeah," then he hit her with "just like you're _kinda_ cute!" He kissed her cheek "Even without the makeup on!"

In the present time, Ricky rolled her eyes, and tried to hide a smile that was creeping to her lips. Oh, Billy Mischief! His playful personality just didn't have an off button.

She was happy before she entered the room at the end of the attic. Less so after she got there, because it was very clear Billy had made himself scarce.

* * *

"I couldn't sleep, pal. I couldn't sleep at all. Hey! Don't look at me like that! I _tried- _I really did! I was just _unable!" _I'm currently east up Gopher Road, narrating my recent exploits to my traveling companion, Gompers. The goat is keeping stride with me. "Ya don't get it, Gompy. Whenever I shut my eyes and _just _when I start to sleep, I see 'em! The visions-" I shrug largely "or whatever ya call'em. And then, I just can't sleep!" I say, frustration working it's way into my voice. Of course I _want _to sleep, but what I _don't _wanna do is lay around and keep trying the same thing when it keeps on failing!

Hence why I'm out here. Better to put that energy toward doing something that I'll at least be successful with.

"So, I get up," I continue my narration. A buggy rides past Gompers and me, it's one horse kicking up dust onto his fur and my shirt. "And sneak around the place- but yanno, all discreet, because I don't want Ricky coming down on me with her hat-selling wrath! But anyway, I find a buncha my new eyes. Or should I say ld eyes?" I consider this for a few moments. "I mean, they were there all along. I just didn't notice 'em before now..."

I explain to Gompers "They're, yanno, my windows. And knots in the wood. And places were the rafters make angles. _Triangles, _to be exact." I point out. "So basically, I can see just about everywhere in the Shack any time I want to! Oh yeah- I figured out how to control it! See, when you're this sleep deprived, you can pretty much fall asleep on cue! Watch!"

I come to a stop and stand in the road. Gompers still has forward momentum and walks past me, but notices that I've stopped and turns around. He baas, annoyed, but when he sees I'm not going, he trots back to me.

I wait for him, then close my eye, and command myself to nod off. For a second, the comforting embrace of sleep reaches around my head and promises to take me in. My aching body and my tired mind welcomes it. For a second, I'm hopeful that I'll get some rest.

And then the visions come in, abruptly ending that fantasy. I'm jolted awake by the sight of them, but I resist an urge to open my eye. Instead, my mind focuses on the visions, choosing one to linger on and study.

I cringe, eye still closed "Ricky just figured out I left. Is she going for my hats? No, Ricky, no, please don't touch'em! Ya gotta understand- I had to go do this! Oh, phew!" I let out a breath "She- oh." I sober a little "Boy, does she look worried! She's not worried about _me, _is she?"

I can see her in my mind's eye. Ricky's face is angry, but fear and worry are also there. She moves with haste outta the room, but doesn't run. I could follow her actions- all I have to do is pick another stain glass eye(Ha!) to look out of. But I choose not to. I open the lid to the fleshy eye on my face.

When I do, I find not Gompers looking up at me, but the red-headed kid from Pioneer Day and Summerween. I blink down at him. Dozens of eyes and I can't even look out for one kid in my personal space. I glare down at him. "Hey, kid. How long have ya been standing there?"

He answers with "You're insane, ain'tcha, pal?"

I consider the question. Here I am, wandering the streets of Gravity Falls, talking to a goat who doesn't talk back, sleep deprived, and seeing things happen when I shouldn't be able to see them, and standing in the middle ah the road, talking about my visions. I nod "Sure I am," I say casually "what's your point?"

It actually seems to be a good question, because the kid shrugs. He doesn't know what the point is.

He continues his way and Gompers and I continue on ours. The goat and I get to the easternmost part of Gopher Road, where it takes a ninety-degree turn north. Instead of continuing to follow the road, I step onto a path through a forested area. Gompers follows.

"So that was pretty swell, huh?" I grin down at the goat, who just looks at me with golden coin slot eyes. He sure does look bored. I huff "Well, _I _think it's swell," I say.

I go on "Well, guess what, pal? My vision's not limited. I can see _outside _the house as well!" I scratch the back of my neck "Mostly random places in the woods. Like, I watched a woodpecker and a squirrel get inna fight over a hole inna tree. And I saw a manotaur uproot a whole tree to use it as a back scratcher!" I inform Gompers "Remind me never to get into a fistfight with one ah those guys!" I implore the goat.

"So mostly I can't locate these outside eyes real quickly, cause the woods all looks the same to me." I shrug "But! I did see something I recognized in one ah those eyes."

We step out of the woods and we're in the cleared, park-like area near the Gravity Falls Public Boat Launch. I pause to look at the area. The trees come almost all the way up to the water but for where they can't grow- in the sand on the beach. An old dock stretches out from said beach. I recognize the cliffs and the water, of course, from the time Gus and I came here. However it looks quite a bit different now. It's sunnier for one thing, muggier too, and of course the lake is not frozen solid.

That dock, though. Currently, an old man is fishing from the end of it. I've been looking at that dock in fronta those cliffs from one of my eyes, and now I'm bound and determined to find said eye. "Let's see," I resume my monologue to Gompers. "That eye sees the dock jutting at what appeared to be an thirty one degree angle from the shoreline. Ahhhh- the south shoreline. So if I keep walking this way until the angle is right..." Gompers keeps following me, kind of interested.

"There!" I exclaim, as the angle lines up with my mind's eye "Wherever my eye is, it's looking out from _exactly _this angle! So. It must be near here, I say, swinging my whole body out to look. Suddenly, my temple smacks into something and I draw back. "OW!" I cried out and grasp my head "Hey who the hell-"

I look back to the place, but there is no person there. Just a tree with chalk colored bark. I straighten up and blow some air out my nostrils, embarrassed that I was bested by a simple birch tree. I cross my arms and look it up and down. I go to walk past it but an eye shaped object catches my notice.

The birch tree has an eye- shaped blemish. An eye of black mixed with white- it sure does have a perfect shape. It's low on the trunk of the tree, which is about waist high for me. I bend down to look at it face level. Yep, a fairly handsome eye, if I do say so myself. Alright, now time to test it.

I shut my eye. I let myself start to fall asleep.

For a second, I'm looking at the sleepy face of a young man, late teens or early twenties, with light brown skin and an angular nose. He's a blond, and it grows soft on his head and more coarse on the tip of his chin. Can't see the guy's eyes because he has them closed. He's wearing his white shirt and suspenders, a bow tie and top hat almost as a final touch.

I chuckle, my fleshy eye still closed. It's a bit unnerving to watch myself chuckle with my eyes closed. A mirror this ain't! "Well who's that handsome devil?"

I open my fleshy eye and straighten up, stretching a little. I then move around the tree so that I can see the dock. Well, it's _close _to the right angle. I get to my knees and put my face next to the tree- or as close as I can get. I inspect the view. Yes, close, I decide. Very, very close.

I get to my feet again "Whelp, I found another one!" I inform Gompers, who's noticed that there's grass here and is grazing away, ignoring me now. I scoff and roll my eye "That's rude, goat! Do I start stuffing _my_ face whenever _you're _talking to _me?"_

Gompers goes on ignoring me. I huff. "Well, don't think that now that I found this eye, that you can just slack off for the resta the day! We've got more stuff to do. Mainly:" I dramatically pull a whole dollar bill outta my pocket "to see if we can make some more! What's the point of having eyes in _some places _when you can have eyes everywhere!"

And so we're off again, which is to say, I'm off(Gompers has always done his own thing anyway). Off to the hardware store, where I buy a big canna black paint and a two inch paintbrush. Leaving the store, I pass by the Gravity Falls Costume Mart. I take a look in the window to see the store completely empty, as they've closed for the night. It's summer, so it's that weird paradox of it being 8PM or so, but not dark. All the same, the street is nearly empty, so I pop open my paint can, dip the brush in, and paint a large, bold line on the window.

After a minute, Parsifal Northwest's store window proudly displays the symbol of Triangulum- the triangle with the line and the oval. I smile cruelly. Yes, anyone with a halfa brain cell will know it was me who did it. But given how much ol' Parsy hates the demon slash me, I just know that his reaction upon seeing this will be funny as hell!

And I just might- _might- _be able to watch. I shut my eyes and coax myself almost into sleep. Several images pop up in my head in quick succession- happenings in the Shack and the woods around Gravity Falls. Mentally, I flick through the images, hoping I'll see the one I want. A little cry of joy escapes my lips when I see the myself, eyes closes in concentration, standing on Main Street.

It worked! My new eye works! This is fantastic! This is great! I can pretty much put an eye out anywhere that I please, and access each one with my mind, like each is a some kinda motion picture camera or something, but only instead of capturing images on grainy, black and white, sped up film, it shows things as they are, and for some reason I can look at it without sitting in a movie theater, and right away too- without having to wait for the film to develop and...

I'm losing sight of the metaphor. Actually, this is like nothing that I know of, but it's amazing!

One more thing, though. The window is transparent. You can see Triangulum's Symbol from both sides. So can my new eye see both sides?

I close my eyes. I grin. Success! I'm now viewing the store, and its racks and its shelves at a slightly closer viewpoint. I'm the window!

"Ha! Whadya thinka that, Gomps?" I cast around for the goat, then remember: "Oh, right. You abandoned me for prime grazing!" I cross my arms as I am, well, cross. "I see how it is, goat!" Of course, Gompers isn't here to hear me whine at him, so I'm pretty much talking to no one.

I continue down Main Street, looking for surfaces to deface. Then, it's directly in fronta me, rising above the town. Of course! The water tower! I make my way down the rest of the street, into the park. Now the water tower does have a ladder scaling it, but I decide to forgo using that. It's not like I have a fear of heights, rather a ladder is too much damned work. Seeing that no one is near, I flash out then flash in at the platform at the top of the tower. I dip my paintbrush in the paint and give it a nice little triangle design.

I flash out to get back down the tower, but because I'm pretty tired I mess up a little with flashing in and appear back in the world under a deciduous tree. I shake my head drowsily. Hadn't I meant to come back at the base of the tower, several yards away? I move away from the tree, and feel a lightness on my head. My hat! I reach for it, but it's gone. I turn around.

My hat is in the tree. No, really, my hat is _in _the tree, and the tree is _in _the hat. Y'see I flashed back beneath some low hanging branches- particularly low hanging. Low enough that my hat appeared where a tree branch also happened to be. I pull the hat and its attached branch down a little to inspect it. The branch went straight through. I note how a parta the branch is now partially made of silk and the hat is now partially made of wood. I shudder because that coulda been me fused with the tree. Then I really _would _have been a freak show: Billy the one-eyed human elm tree.

It's kinduva wake-up call- pun appreciated but not intended. I'm too tired to be doing this. My magic is great- I'll be the first person to tell ya that! But it's dangerous too. It takes a lotta focus to do magic right, and with my head so strained and tired, I just might get myself or some other person hurt. I _need _sleep.

I walk over to the tree trunk and sigh. "Alright. Maybe forty seventh time'sa charm." I sit down in front of the tree, in the crook of the roots. It's not the most comfortable place to doze off but I did worse in my hobo-ing days. "Just. A little. Nap." I coach myself. I lean my head against the tree. I'm so tired that sleep comes bounding at me eagerly. Yes. Here it is. Soon I'll be dragged under, and a few hours later, I'll wake up feeling-

I see a moth in my kitchen flying around a hanging light bulb. I see the man on the end of the dock put up his bucket of bait and swing his fishing pole over his shoulder. I see a Sheriff Blubs walking his terrier on the other sida main street.

I growl and grab my head. "No!" I scream. "No, no, no!"

I plead, "Can't you just, refrain, just this once? What is your problem, anyway? Why can't ya leave me alone?!"

Oh, great. Now I'm so tired that I'm yelling _at the visions _as if that will help anything at all. I groan and put my head in my arms. I try sleeping again once, twice, three times. Each time, the visions come back. They force themselves to the front of my brain- _insist _that I give them my full attention. And now that I've added two eyes to look out from, these two are jockeying for attention with all the others.

This is stupid. I hate this! Can't I control my own brain?!

"I need to sleep," I moan into arms "I need to sleep. I need to sleeeeeep." I whine.

"That's what I told you this afternoon!"

I'm not surprised that Ricky is here because I saw her come this way- through momentary glimpses from my water tower eye. It's tempting not to lift my head, because my muscles hurt from fatigue and lifting my head does too. But I can't see her from any of my other eyes, so I finally give in.

Ricky is standing in a knee-length blue dress, her hair clipped with a matching hair doily. Her hands are on her hips and her face is stormy. I smile weakly at her. "Hi, Ricky. Sorry ya found out about this." I gesture to the branches above her head "Ya can't sell that hat. It belongs to the tree now."

* * *

Dealing with Billy was like dealing with a child. How embarrassing it was to have to drag her boyfriend home like he was her stray dog. Once to the Shack, Ricky fed the boy, as he had not eaten for a wile, the ordered him to bed- a suggestion that actually angered him.

"Right, Ricky," he said sarcastically "because I tried fifty times, so the fifty first time otta do it!"

"Fine. If you have trouble sleeping, just lay and think. At least you'll be resting your body."

Billy rubbed his temple "I can't _stop_ thinking! That's the problem," he moaned. But he went anyway. Imagining that her presence might be a distraction, she waited a few minutes and helped clean the store.

When she went up, she found Billy lying flat on his back, his arms up over his head, his eyes closed. She stepped closer to try to listen to his breathing. She could tell the difference between someone's breathing when they were asleep and when they were awake. But Billy gave her a giant spoiler by saying out loud "Hi Ricky. I'm watching!"

Ricky regarded the magician. He didn't look like he was watching anything at the moment.

Billy chuckled "You look so cute when you're confused...And now you look just north of angry. Just getting ready to get there. Yanno, your nostrils flare out a little bit?"

"How are you-"

"The window, Ricky."

Ricky glanced up at the triangular window. Without opening his eyes, Billy smiled and said, "Ah, there's my girl's face! Hi, Ricky!" Billy waved, his eye still closed.

Ricky looked down at the boy lying on the bed and frowned. She thought to herself for a few seconds, then went to his closet. She grabbed one of his capes, went back to the bed, and dropped it on top of his face.

Billy grabbed the fabric and twitched beneath it "Hey! What's the big idea?"

"Keep it on. I don't want you peeking." She then added, "That is to say, I want you to prove to me this dozens of eyes thing."

Billy relaxed back on the bed, but threw the cape off. Ricky rolled her eyes "Come on, Billy! Work with me!"

"I do wanna work with ya, Ricky!" Billy explained, sitting up "But this," he said, holding up the cape "won't work. Look," he stretched it before him. The cape the same was usual to Ricky- that same electric blue like his eyes and his fire, with the bold yellow triangle in the middle. He pointed to the triangle "I can see outta that."

Ricky twisted her face, but nodded. This was weird, but there was a chance Billy was telling the truth. "Then grab something without any triangles on it. How about this blanket?"

And so Billy relaxed back on his back, a wool blanket over his face. "You can't see anything, can you?" Ricky asked.

"Oh, I see lots of things."

Ricky rolled her eyes "Right. Well, I'm going to pull some things out of he closet here. If you're right about this window, then you'll be able to tell me what they all are..." she starting pulling objects out of the closet she share with Billy and held them up for the window to 'see'.

She was unnerved when Billy, who clearly had his face covered, named them one by one. "A wool jacket. Those white n' gold heels ah yours I like so much. Oh, that's that hat with the blue sash! I forgot I owned that one. Classy!"

Ricky sat down on the bed and squeezed the bridge of her nose. Billy removed the blanket from his face, but only because he found it uncomfortable. Without opening his eye he asked, "You okay, doll?"

Ricky twisted her mouth, sighed, and took Billy's hand. She squeezed it "It's because of the demon, isn't it?"

He sat up, still not opening his eye. He put his lanky arms around her skinny shoulders "That's very likely true," he said. "I mean, from what I can gather, he's not only a triangle, he's an eye too. An _all seeing _eye, just more malevolent than the one on the backa the dollar bill."

"You're not mal- _Billy would you open your eye?_ You're kind of creeping me out." After a second, the magician did, having not realized that his skull-bound eye was closed. "You're not malevolent. Quick to anger, and sometimes your jokes get out of hand, but not malevolent."

"You're wrong," Billy said "but that's okay. I'm not malevolent to you, so that's all that matters really."

Ricky sat in silence for a few seconds, digesting what she had just learned. Billy shut his eye again- Ricky supposed he was watching some going on in the shack or in town. She wondered what it felt like. "I suppose I can accept this." She smiled and rubbed his shoulder "You sure are fulla surprises, Billy Mischief. I wasn't lying when I said that dating you is like having an adventure every day. But I truly hope _this _isn't permanent! I mean, I'm going to be looking over my shoulder all the time for the tiniest triangles every time I go to change my clothes or take a shower!"

Billy snorted, "Not like there's anything I haven't seen, doll!"

Ricky blushed and huffed "Even so, a girl wants to have privacy _sometimes_! Please tell me you'll try to make it stop," she rubbed his shoulder "not just for me, but for your health too!"

Billy slouched "I'll do my best. You don't have any idea how much I want to sleep!"

* * *

If it wasn't clear before, it became obvious before long that Billy's issue wasn't pure stubbornness or stupidity, but an actual medical ailment. Once again Ricky tried to talk Billy into seeing the doctor and once again the magician vehemently refused. Billy had a show at the club that night, and he had never missed one before, he would be damned(he said) if he would miss one because of a little tiredness.

So while Billy was at the club, Ricky did some investigating- going to grocery store to speak to some of the older ladies, then she did some shopping. When Billy came home, Ricky had a meal waiting for him and Gus- a turkey sandwich with a banana, and a glass of warm milk with honey in it. Billy was mystified by this strange meal, but was too tired to make any of his usual wisecracks. When he went up to his room, he found vases of purple and blue flowers on the bedside table and the vanity.

"The banana, the honey, and now this? Are ya trying to tell me I smell bad, Ricky?" Billy deadpanned.

"These are lavender," Ricky informed Billy "and this is passionflower. Don't they smell good? Mrs. Mecc told me about them. The scents are supposed to make you relaxed in order to sleep- well! Don't you feel sleepy already? I mean, they were expensive, so they _have _to work!"

Billy grabbed one of the round passionflowers, put his nose to it, and inhaled. "Uhhmmm..." then he chuckled "sorry, Ricky, what? All of that just went over my head," he snickered as if this was hilarious.

By this point, Gus was slumbering soundly in his bed, but Ricky's concoction of tryptophan just didn't work for Billy. When Ricky told Gus of her failure the next day, the boy peeped up "What about the Slumber Blossom? Couldn't we use that?"

Ricky frowned "Slumber Blossoms knock people out- it's not a natural sleep. I don't think that would be a good idea...I mean, we might as well be giving him opium! Besides, we don't know for sure Slumber Blossoms exist. It's just an old wive's tale."

Gus shrugged "Well, if you ever want to try it, would could always ask the gnomes."

"They'll probably ask for another queen in return. I'd rather not ever get gnomes involved with my problems, if I can help it."

Billy continued to not sleep. The magician was still the same- alternating between sleepiness, manic hyperactivity and moodiness. There was a whole lot of moodiness. Ricky felt like she had to chase her boyfriend around to get him to sit in one place and try to tame his malfunctioning mind. Every time she did, Billy would tell her how much he just wanted to sleep, but she would check on him only to find that he had run off to put the demonic symbol on some other surface, or to try to find birch trees in the forest, or something. The worst time was when she and Gus found the magician pacing in front of the town doctor's door, a secondhand hunting knife in hand.

"Billy Mischief, what on earth are you doing?!" Ricky cried hectically as she came upon him almost pulling her hair out after locating him for the third time that day.

Dr. Pitt's house was on the south side of Gopher Road, next to the building where he had his practice. He had a stoop leading down to the road, and this Billy paced in front of. Presently, the magician pulled two other teens to the side of the stoop, convincing them to crouch so that they could hide behind it. He closed his eye- Ricky supposed to have a demonic look around. The heiress shuddered, for she thought she'd never get used this new dubious ability of his. Fire and flying were one thing, but seeing with detached eyes was just disturbing.

He opened his eye "Ricky, Gus, what are ya guys doing here?" He asked. He looked terrible- his skin some shade of gray, his hair messy, the gray bag under his eye darkened to purple, and said eye was now red with inflamed veins.

Gus's eyes watched the knife- which was flying around rather wildly as Billy gestured. "Billy- what are you planning with that thing?"

Billy focused on him for a second, then shut his eye again "He's inna horse'n buggy, coming up from Duskerton Drive," the magician informed the teens "when he gets here, I'm gonna..." he held up the knife resolutely.

Gus blanched "What? _Kill _Dr. Pitt?!"

Billy shrugged "Maybe I will. I'd rather just get even, though."

Ricky was astounded. Billy couldn't be serious about this, and a big part of her wanted to deny it, as ridiculous as the denial was. "You mean you're going to scare him, right?"

Billy snorted and opened his eye, "Oh yeah, doll," he said "he's gonna be _real _scared when I'm cutting his eyeball outta his head!"

Gus's eyes were wide, and his voice quivered "Billy! You can't just maim a man!"

Billy growled ferociously "And why not?! Need I remind you," he ripped the bandage off dramatically and pointed to his empty eye socket "**HE MAIMED ME FIRST**!" He yelled, his voice taking on a curious deep tone for a moment. Ricky would have commented on it if she wasn't terrified about what he planned to do.

Ricky shook her head "You don't know it was him, Billy!"

"It was him! He had the means!"

"According to _you," _Ricky tried to keep her voice calm, level. Billy was not of his right mind- that was clear. She did not want to allow him to do something that could land him in prison until he was an old man. Ricky wasn't overestimating that- they were in broad daylight and, even at this very moment, people were walking the streets, looking at the three of them as they weren't at all well hidden. Dr. Pitt was a beloved public figure. Finally, given how much Ricky's father absolutely hated Billy, and that he was the town judge, he would not go easy on the boy if Billy's saw his ill-conceived plan out. "But did you taste all the sugar that soda had in it? Last I checked, sugar did _not _sedate people. Besides, you _still _haven't figured out his motive!"

Billy whirled on the heiress "I told ya! He's _screwy!"_ He yelled.

"Proof, Billy!" Gus said, grabbing his arm "You need proof before you can act against someone! That how the justice system works!"

"I got all the proof_ I_ need!" Billy stood up and closed his eye. He smiled, but this time in a cruel, toothless way. With a quiver of something like joy in his voice, announced, "he's almost here."


	25. Twenty Five: Marshmallow Head

Ricky and Gus exchanged glances. They couldn't let Billy do this! But Gus saw that Ricky was just as perplexed as to how to stop him. The pale haired boy's heart was pounding. He was scared- scared for the man who was about to face Billy, and scared for his friend as well. An undercurrent below the fear, but still making itself known to Gus, was a sliver of anger at Billy. Billy was so smart about so many things- math, history, linguistics, construction, magic, and, of course, conning people. He was incredibly creative- all you had to do was go to single one of his performances and you saw that. But he could be frustratingly, teeth-gnashingly devoid of common sense. And when Billy Mischief got an idea into his head, you needed an act of congress to get him to change his mind.

This time around, Billy wasn't going to believe that Dr. Pitt was innocent of maiming him unless the real culprit came forward and confessed. Heck, even Gus wasn't sure that the doctor hadn't done it(for his own purposes or for someone he had been in cahoots with), but he knew that _this _was not the right way to confront him. Let the law take care of punishing Dr. Pitt(if he was guilty, that was)! This vigilante revenge was dangerous and stupid.

Yeah right. Billy had never taken laws seriously. He had his own, twisted sense of right and wrong in which the long arm of the law played a miniscule role. And that's when Gus realized that he'd have to appeal to Billy's personal moral code in order to possibly save him.

"Wow, Billy. I used to think you were really smart. I used to look up to you. Now, I'm not so sure."

Billy turned around quickly, as if he had been smacked across the back of the head "_What?!"_

"Well," Gus said with a shrug "I mean, removing his eye?" He shrugged "That's just kinda...so _predictable."_

Billy looked wounded "But- come on! It's perfect! It's classical, even! It's in the Bible!"

It pained Gus to see this city boy who had admitted to never cracking open a bible talking about the Good Book in such a way, but he held his tongue. "Billy, aren't you supposed to be a _demon? _What use do demons have for that dusty old tome written for _saints?_"

He felt stupid calling Billy a demon, but the magician seemed to respond to it. He blinked, tiredly, and caressed his beard "Huh. Now that you mention it...that is kinda dumb, isn't it?" He closed his eye "He's almost here, guys! I gotta do _something."_

"Why not wait?" Ricky said, catching on to what Gus was doing.

Billy blinked "Just wait? Wait and let'im get away with it?"

Gus shook his head "No, no, no, Billy! He _won't _get away with it! But won't your revenge be more satisfying if it comes at the right time?"

Billy blinked, too tired to think about it too hard "Oh. Maybe?"

"You just need to come up with a better plan," Ricky said "a certified 100% original Bill M. Cipher fashioned vengeance for the man who stole your eye." She put her arm around him "You just need to sleep on it. I'm sure you'll come up with something truly horrible if you just sleep!"

Billy looked down at the knife in his hand "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should lull him into a false sensa safety...make him think he got away with it."

"Exactly, Billy," Gus smiled "come on, let's go home and have some more of that _delicious _turkey Ricky bought!"

The three teens were passing the intersection of Gopher Road and Duskerton Drive just as a black buggy pulled by a brown horse turned onto the former from the latter. They both knew Billy was right about the buggy, but Gus looked anyway to see the large-eared doctor in the chair. Said doctor waved cheerfully to the teens. Amazingly, Billy didn't see that.

Gus let out a sigh of relief, glad, for once, that Billy's mind was so muddled because his exhaustion. He wasn't sure that that ploy would have worked otherwise. But his and Ricky's victory was hard to celebrate- they had only put off, not averted a disaster.

"I need to stop this." Ricky whispered.

* * *

When I walk in on Gus in his workshop later I let out an uproarious laugh. I can't help it and he deserves it! Look at him- his hair all like that! So poofy and white!

I laugh until tears are in my eyes "What did ya- what did ya _do _anyway?" I snort, "Put your head inna giant sized marshmallow? AHheheheheh!" I point and grab my sides "And what's with the dumb suit, anyway? Whatcha going to do, sell me a bridge?"

Gus's face darkens with rage. He leaves the chair at the worktable and starts toward me, looking up at me past his pug nose "LIAR! _You _turned her against me!"

I cock my head "Say what now? _What _are we talking about?"

Gus continues to approach, grabbing his collar as he comes closer. "SHE WAS MY PEACH DUMPLIN!"

I snort, "Nice accent, kid! Now why doncha pick up a banjer and play to 'possums in the cotton fey-ild!." I say, mimicking his sudden southern accent. Seriously, what the heck? Has Gus gone off the deep end or what? Aheh, poor sap! Probably on accounta trying to deal with me all the time!

Suddenly I'm rising "What the-" I take a look down to see that I'm a few feet in the air, and getting higher! Which isn't unusual for me by a long shot- only I didn't plan this! Oh crap- are my powers on the fritz again? I can't have that happen! I feel for my amulet under my shirt-

My amulet is gone!

Before I can consider this further, I'm being flung through the air with magic. I'm thrown into a pile of boxes- _where did these boxes come from?!_ Gus casually walks over to me. Panicked now, I search my clothes for my amulet. No. Nononononono. I can't do this again! I can't go all demonic and lose control of my magic! Funny, I don't feel that trapped, pushing feeling, however...

What the heck am I _wearing_ by the way?Where did this orange shirt come from? This blue vest? Why am I wearing tennis shoes?

"Readin' minds isn't all I can do!"

I look up. Gus is standing over me. Readin mi- _what the heck is the kid talking about?! _As he speaks, he gestures, and his hand goes to his collar. No, not his collar- a kinda tie with-

HEY!

THAT'S MY AMULET!

"YOU had it!" I cry, lunging. I jump on a very surprised Gus who I pin to the ground. I grab at his collar- at the weird little tie thing mada string. Even as I do this, his blue suit sorta melts away and turns into regular clothes, and Gus gets older- like fifteen insteada eight or whatever, and his white hair turns a flaxen color and loses it bounce. The tie has disappeared! Where is the tie?! My hands are on his neck, and I shout, "Where did you put it? Where did ya hide it? I need it to live! **GIVE IT BACK**!" I roar, my voice taking on an unusual octave.

Gus isn't answering because he can't breathe.

"_BILLY! _What the _FUCK _are you doing?!"

I turn to look at Ricky, but I'm too slow: she down on the floor with Gus and me, and she's pushing me offa the kid! I grapple with her fora bit, but she fights dirty: kneeing me in the groin. I howl and roll to the side. While I blink the stars outta my eyes, I can hear Ricky and Gus talking.

"Gus, Gus, Gus! Are you okay? Gus!"

Gus gasps for air "Ricky!" He gasps again "I'm so glad you came! Billy's going crazy!"

"What happened? Why was he _choking _you?"

"I don't know, Ricky, I-" Gus breathes in raggedly some more.

"Take your time," Ricky encourages. I groan and roll over onto my stomach, retroactively protecting my own assets. When my chest presses against the wood of the floor, I feel the pressure of familiar object between the two of them. I dart my hand between the space and feel my amulet. I reach said hand into my shirt and put my thumb on it just to make sure it's the real deal. My amulet! It's back! How did it get back?

How did it get lost offa me in the first place?

"He was insane, Ricky!" I can hear Gus talking "He came into my studio and starting laughing hysterically marshmallows or something! And then suddenly he floated himself up and flung himself into the wall there! I went over to see if he needed a hand, and he freaked out and attacked me!"

I look up and slam my hand on the wooden planks "Because _you _took my amulet!"

"_What?" _Both Ricky and Gus say it at once. They sound so shocked, so incredulous, that for a second I'm doubting that Gus ever had my amulet in the first place...

But of course he had it! I saw it with my own two eyes!

...

My own _one eye, _okay? Boy, I gotta get used to saying all these eye sayings right!

I shake my head, and sit up, Indian style. "Of course ya had it! You were using it against me!"

_"What?" _ They both say again. Alright, the act is old now!

"Billy, I would never take your amulet!" Gus exclaims.

"Not after what we saw on the lake that day!" Ricky puts in.

"We know you need it to survive, Billy!"

I growl, "Of course ya did! On that dumb tie thingie," I say, gesturing to my neck, and Gus his arms near his own neck, protectively "and your hair was poofy," I say, making a gesture as if I'm holding a watermelon above my skull "and white!"

"It's not white!" Gus cries, incredulous "The color's called flaxen!"

"And ya were nine years old, and ya had a blue suit, and ya were screaming about peach dumplings!"

Ricky and Gus exchange glances again.

"What?" I question.

Neither of them reply.

"What is it?!"

"Billy, how long has it been you last slept?"

I have to think about this "Two nights? The last I slept was the night before I lost my- I mean, the night before Summerween."

"Well," Ricky says, matter-of-factly "you're delusional, Billy."

Gus nods "I didn't do any of those things, Billy!"

"But I saw-"

"And Gus never screamed anything," Ricky adds. "I know- I was just in the next room. I didn't come over until _you _started yelling at _Gus!"_

"But, but-" my eye goes back and forth between the two of them. They both look so scared and simply shocked by me. My hand clutches my amulet again outta nervous necessity. It's still there, of course, like it always is. And now that I think of it, the things Gus did aren't things normal people can do. Like changing outta the blue suit so quick. And being nine and then being fifteen again.

Ricky says "When people are as tired as you are they sometimes see things that aren't there."

It's a mini shock to my backbone "Ya mean, Gus never had my amulet?"

Two heads shake, looking at me in horror.

"So, I strangled Gus for no reason?" My eyes grow wide and the horror catches to me, too. I feel a need to hug my knees to my chest and I do. I maintain this position for a few moments, staring into space.

Ricky gets up and stands over me "_Now _will you let me bring you to a doctor?"

I nod mutely.

* * *

Northwest is looking at me. "Hi, Parsy!" Oh wait. He can't hear me. He's uh...he doesn't see me. Then why is he looking at me? Boy, is he blanched! He looks like he's looking at a ghost! Am I dead? How would I even know? Wait. There's something I'm forgetting.

"My eye!" Yes! Could I forget: I gave Northwest a present- an eye on his store window. Well. Not technically an eye. It doesn't look like an eye to him. To him it looks like a demon. Did I really look like that before I looked like me? I don't remember. I don't remember anything from before I was three or two or something. Maybe I'm not really a demon. Maybe I just like to think that, so that I can convince myself I have a right to these powers. That I'm not just a thief.

Northwest is looking at me. I mean Northwest is looking at my eye. He looks upset. Not he's yelling at Jesús to do something. Now Jesús is going into the store. Northwest is still standing out there. Nothing's happening. "Boring!" I comment, and switch to another channel, so to speak. I mean, my eyes aren't a radio but Idon'tknowIthoughtitwascleverwhenIcameupwithitstop judgingme.

Ok. Here are some gnomes. What are they up to? I dunno. They're in some kinda circle, heads bowed. Praying. Who cares? Gnomes are the boringest of the boring. Next channel. Here are some deer grazing. Ugh, deer. So creepy! Next channel. Here's Northwest again. He looks smaller alluva sudden. Such a tiny, insignificant man. Look at him! He thinks he has a chance against **me! **Oh wait. That's just perspective. He's farther away from me now. No. I'm farther away. I'm using a different eye now.

I'm looking from the water tower, right up Main Street. What is Northwest doing down there? Jesús just came outta the store with a bucket of water and a small object. What is that? I change eyes to the one in their store window, and when a do, Jesús is suddenly shoving a razorblade in my face!

"Aghh! Oh, my eye!" I exclaim as my hands go to my left eye. I cringe in pain and roll off the chair I was sitting in.

"Billy, Billy!" There's the sound of wood tapping on wood and then there is a presence near me on the floor. And arm reaches around my middle as a soft hand applies itself to my forehead "Billy, are you okay?"

"R-Ricky?" I open my eyes, only to find that the left eye that I had been coddling isn't there. Just like it wasn't there the day before, and the day before that.

"Billy, what happened?" Ricky asks.

"Were you dreaming?" Gus questions "Were you _sleeping?_" He asked hopefully.

"Heestub muh'hai." I mumble, eyelid fluttering.

"What?" Both Gus and Ricky say at once, which I find a little hilarious so I snicker.

"He stabbed my eye!" I say, and Gus and Ricky sigh heavily, thinking I'm still harping on Dr. Pitt. "Parsy," I add, and Ricky raises an eyebrow.

I shut my eye, searching for that viewpoint once again. But a mask of rage contorts my face as soon as I locate it. "No! They're scraping it off!"

"They're doing what? What's wrong with my father?!" Ricky questions.

I explain to them in a few sentences about the painted symbol on the storefront window and what Northwest and Jesús are doing to it, and Ricky rolls her eyes and leaves the room.

"They have a right to, Billy!" Gus exclaims "That's Ricky's Dad's property, and you defaced it!"

"That eye belongs to me! He has _no _right!" I stand up and start to pace, raging about the injustice and unfairness of all of it. How dare he! _How dare he!_ I rage until suddenly- "Uh, Gus, what am I mad about, again?"

Gus is staring at me like I have two heads.

_What? _

After a second the boy says "Um, taxes, I think."

I blink "Oh." I nod. Sounds legit.

Ricky comes into the room wearing a cloche hat and gloves "Alright Billy, you ready to go?" She says leading me to the entryway.

"Uhmmm, sure doll!" I say with a drunken grin "where are we going, anyway?"

"Billy, don't you remember the conversation we had just an hour ago?"

I blink and frown, and look around myself. Gus has a curious expression on his face. He looks frightened.

Hey, why is he wearing that weird neck scarf around- oh.

_Oh._

I forgot.

* * *

_For about the sixtieth time, Gus is looking in the mirror. His lips purse and his eyebrows come close together. The bruises on his neck are ugly- swollen and purple. A noise- or something, pulls his attention elsewhere. He reapplies his neck scarf and hurries back to the store, and greets his new customers warmly._

"Still spying on that boy?"

I crack my fleshy eye open. We're in the car, moving at a steady clip along the gravel road. Ricky is driving, and she looks sideways at me. We've left Gravity Falls a while ago.

"It's not spying if-"

She cuts me off "Does he know you're doing it?"

"Well he's not aware of me all the time, but I think he has some idea that-"

"Does he want you 'watching' him?"

I shrug "Who cares what he wants?"

Ricky rolls her eyes, and focuses on the road. I say, "He's fine by the way. Keeps looking at his bruises, but he'll be okay. I think..."

I look down at my lap.

Ricky says nothing.

Feeling a need to fill the silence, I say "I almost fused myself with a tree the other- yester-" I rub my temple "yanno, I don't know if it was yesterday, a minute ago, or a week ago." This is honest. I'm so tired, time itself has become one big muddle. "I almost fused myself witha tree. That's when I decided to lay off the magic for a while- at least until I could get some rest. I really thought that, as long as I wasn't doing magic, I wouldn't hurt myself. Or anyone else."

Ricky sighs. "Well," she says, "we just won't let it get any worse, will we?"

We're going to Portland. I'm still loath to let Ricky take me to Dr. Pitt. Why would I want to step right into the den of my enemy when I'm weak? I'll wait until I have my strength back to confront _him. _So Ricky ran to the restaurant to use their phone to make a call to a doctor in the city. We're on our way there now.

I shut my eye again to catch a glimpse at Gus. He's taken a costume off the rack- a faerie gown, and the pale-haired boy is now displaying it to the customer- a pretty tourist wearing cheaters and a big, floppy hat. She doesn't seem to be paying attention to what he's saying, but rather is pulling down her sunglasses and winking at Gus over them. Ha! My Gus has got a fancier! Though it's a bit maddening how oblivious he is to her attention!

But this is going away. The images from Gravity Falls are getting smudged around the edges; foggier. It's almost like the further I get away from the town, the weaker my inhuman eyes become. Dismayed, I try to hold to the images mentally, but no dice. I sigh and lean back in the seat.

We've been driving up, down, and around mountains all this time, seeing a lotta trees. Most of the time the trees tower over us like two waves on either side- like we're Moses and his procession and the red sea of trees is being pulled apart for our passage by a patient god. Then we'll suddenly find ourselves on a cliff side looking out at endless waves of trees, only sometimes broken up by islands of lake water. It seems like the forested areas would go on forever, but after a time the trees actually do end opening up into residential areas. Telephone wires appear on the side of the road, and road signs become more prevalent. Now, the gravel under Ricky's wheels has been replaced by gray/black tar, and much smoother is the ride.

The houses around us get closer together and, after awhile, they cease being houses and they're apartment buildings instead. The landscape becomes sprinkled with railroad yards, factory smokestacks, and billboards. We're entering into a much more metropolitan area than we came from. Okay, yeah- it's a city.

Ricky's driving becomes different- more aggressive, more faster of the reflexes, more liberal with the horn. I approve. After a few street changes and a few red lights she parks the car in front of a brick building. She gets out. I don't wanna follow. I don't wanna do anything requiring effort, but she insists, and Ricky Northwest can insist very forcefully.

Ricky stops at a directory sign to figure out where she wants to go, then we get into an elevator. Then I'm shoved into a doctor's office waiting room, complete with a bored receptionist behind a desk and some old magazines on tables. Ricky has me sit down while she talks to the receptionist and that's the last I know.

* * *

It was actually kind of embarrassing. She had made an appointment with a Portland doctor to have her boyfriend seen for severe insomnia. And what had Billy done as soon as they had arrived here? Fallen asleep in his chair.

Don't get me wrong- she _was _glad. Finally, Billy had gone to sleep! Now maybe the magician (not to mention Gus and her!) would have some peace of mind- perhaps he'd even stop ranting about maiming Dr. Pitt. He looked so content and just _finally at peace _laying there, so much so that she it pained her to wake him up. Part of her was afraid that, if she did, he would never fall asleep again.

But she did, when the nurse came out, crossed her arms, and looked down at the two of them, judging them. Then, with a heavy heart, she prodded her boyfriend awake. Billy disappeared with said nurse behind the receptionist desk. When he appeared again, he was blinking, confused, bore new bandages on his arms and had traded in the head bandage for his stage eye patch. Ricky stood up anxiously "So? What did the doctor say?"

Billy's eye widened in surprise "That guy was a doctor? I thought he was some kinda obsessed fan when he took my bandages away from me."

The doctor had given Billy some pain pills and a bottle of sleeping pills, as well as changing some of his bandages over. Ricky started on her way out of Portland. "I feel better," her boyfriend mumbled. "But I feel like..."

"You can sleep, now?"

Billy nodded.

"Go for it, Pal. I'll try not to drive over too many potholes."

She was on the road out of Portland, and she watched him out of the corner of his eye. The young magician leaned back in the seat and dozed off. Allegedly, he dozed off. You wouldn't know unless you had watched him closely, because he only seemed to close his eye for only a second before it snapped open, startled.

Ricky said nothing. She watched the traffic and gave occasional looks to him. Unlike him, she only had two very real eyes to work with. Now Billy was looking at his eye patch dismayed. He pursed his lips, then put it on backwards, so that the triangle was facing his skull. Then he finally, fell to sleep.

Ricky studied the road in front of her and thought about what she had just seen. Something about that eye patch had been keeping Billy awake. As soon as he had turned it around, it bothered him no more. What could that be, she wondered?

The triangle. The golden triangle Gus had sewn on there, for a gift, because he knew Billy really liked that symbol, for some reason. It was just like another eye for Billy. That was it! The _eyes _were keeping Billy awake!

And there were too many in Gravity Falls.

A sign came into view, and Ricky turned.

* * *

Billy slept.

Billy slept for hours, and Ricky didn't stop him.

The heiress left the motor hotel room. She had a smoke. She realized that Billy wasn't going to make his other job, so she drove into town a little until she found a payphone. She asked to be connected to the The Club of Gravity Falls and soon was on the phone with Mr. Clubb himself.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Clubb, but Billy's sick. He won't make his show tonight."

"Sick? _Sick? _There's no _sick_ in showbiz! Tell your beau that he'd better report here! After the sorry excuse for a show last night, he's on thin ice! Do you have any idea how many Fallers are lined up to take his place? That sparkling conjuror isn't as irreplaceable as he thinks he is!"

Ricky felt a headache coming on. Magic, and performing his magic, was important to Billy. She'd feel awful if he lost the chance to do that because she had decided to take him out of town. On the other hand, she had a suspicion that bringing him back to Gravity Falls now was the worse thing she could possibly do. More than a suspicion- a part of her wanted to make him leave forever. But she wasn't yet sure, so she would fight Clubb for Billy's job, at least right now.

"Just one day, Mr. Clubb. Please. I know it's short notice, but Billy doesn't have control over his health. He really is sorry he can't be there."

"And I _really_ need to entertain fifty tables tonight! Either he shows up here and performs a decent show, or he hits the road! No ands, if or butts about it!"

Ricky felt a hot anger bubbling up in her throat "Listen, Rolf," she said, breaking some taboo concerning age and using his first name, "Billy's sorry, but he can't perform tonight. He'll perform tomorrow. And you will welcome him to you stage or, maybe," she gave a small, sadistic grin, though of course it was not seen over the phone "maybe my father will have Sheriff Blubs take a closer look at those casks of 'cooking oil' you've been unloading from those trucks from the north!" With that, she slammed the phone back onto the receiver- a very satisfying action.

It was a bluff, of course. Ricky was no longer on good enough terms with her father that she could ask him for favors like that. Besides, the heir would no doubt love to see Billy get fired from the one out of two jobs that made him the happiest. But Mr. Clubb didn't have to know that.

The spent the next few hours alone, either in her car exploring the roads out outer Portland, or gazing out over the Colombia River with a cigarette in her hand. Then she found a restaurant and had something to eat. It was a sketchy joint and she could hear some pitter-patter of some animal under her seat. She left, too late realizing that Billy might wake up later, after all the restaurants had closed, and be hungry. So she stopped at a little grocery store. She was about to buy something responsible, but then she saw a tin of Pent-o-Grahams and couldn't resist.

Ricky loved Pent-o-Grahams, but you couldn't get them in Gravity Falls, and it had been that way for a long time. Her Grandfather had banned food items with pictures of the devil on the box way back, and the law had stuck. Deviled ham was also impossible to get in city limits. Ultimately, she bought them as a treat but, she figured that, with his whole new fascination with demons, Billy would get a kick out of them too.

She returned to the motor hotel room, and found Billy, still peacefully sleeping. For a guy who claimed to be a mind-ruining demon in actuality, he sure did look precious lying there. Ricky meant no offence- Billy was very masculine, and Ricky had seen him do some amazing things. And he also delightfully adorable, especially when he got flustered and starting batting those lovely eyelashes around.

Or maybe she was biased in that regard. Some guys went crazy when they saw a girl's feet. Ricky had a fetish for eyelashes.

She changed into her pajamas after watching her boyfriend for a few minutes, satisfied that he was well.

She tried to sleep but, in an ironic twist, visions kept her awake, but not the same kind that Billy had suffered with for the past two days. Instead of seeing the present, Ricky was bothered by specters of the future. And while Billy had disturbingly watched real goings on, it was impossible for Ricky to tell whether any of the things floating in front of her eyes were the true future, whether they would all come true in one way or another, or whether none of them showed the truth.

Billy stirred sometime between the hours or 3AM and 4AM, and Ricky was glad to have the company. She reached for her boyfriend. "How do you feel?"

* * *

I execute a long stretch, starting in my left little toe wand zigging across it, to my ankle and my thigh and my backbone, up across my chest and into my neck and my right elbow and wrist and fingers. Boy, is it satisfying! Satisfying to have the presence of mind to enjoy these little sensations in my body, to not feel achy from fatigue and muddled and unable to think. "I feel," my voice is low; raspy- a morning voice "better. I feel like I'm human again."

"You weren't human there?"

"I don't know what I was, but it wasn't fun."

"Well," Ricky says "human, demon, robot, three-eyed-frog, whatever you are, I love you."

"I know, doll."

"So. Do you know why you were having problems in Gravity Falls? And why we were able to make it stop?"

I nod "I figured it out when I tried to put on my eye patch and go to sleep." I sit up in bed and look at a wall. "Uh, Ricky, where am I, anyway?"

"The Sleepy Pine Motor Hotel- just east of Portland. You don't remember coming here?"

I shake my head "I don't remember lots of things about the past coupla days. It seemed like all my concentration was on watching- and the more tired I got, the less I could focus on anything in _my _life! It was fun at first, but after a while I felt like I didn't even exist anymore. If that's what being a _real _demon is like, I'll pass!"

Ricky frowns, thinking about this, so I change the subject "Anyway, I get it now. Gravity Falls has too many triangles. But not just triangles," because let's face it- that particular shape is omnipresent. No. "triangles that are meant for me- the demon- whoever." The birch-tree eyes too- I can't forget those.

"Yes, it does."

"There's no way I can sleep there."

"I guess there isn't."

"So I'll just have to give up sleeping."

Ricky draws back as if shocked "Billy, that's a physical impossibility."

I smirk and cast my hand in blue flame. It lights up the dark room, giving everything an eerie glow "I can do lots of impossible things."

She sighs, "Maybe so, but as far as I see it, you're just as much human as you are demon. Now I'll be the first to admit my knowledge of demons is limited, but _humans_ need to sleep to survive. Good lord, Billy, did the last seventy two hours teach you nothing?"

I frown "I can't leave Gravity Falls!"

"You just did," Ricky points out "and now you should stay away."

I shake my head "You don't get it, Ricky. That place is more my home than any other place I've been!"

"Are you sure you're not still tired?" Ricky scoffs.

"Honestly," I leave the flame floating as a ball of fire above our laps "Those freaky Mackerel guys convinced me to leave San Francisco- and I loved San Francisco! But they didn't make me leave Gravity Falls. I'm telling ya, I belong in that town! Nothing's gonna make me leave, doll!"

"Not even the fact that living there might _kill _you?!"

I draw away from her body a little bit in lew of her passion. I bite my lip and look away.

"_Billy!"_ Ricky cries.

"I'm _thinking _about it doll, I'm _thinking!"_

Ricky's face becomes stormy. Her nostrils get bigger and her eyes narrow. "You shouldn't have to think about it, Billy!"

I shrug "A fella can die anywhere. I mean, no one knows the future. You can be in the most peaceful neighborhood in Connecticut and walk around the corner and a piano drops on ya. Or ya can live next to an active volcano and live to ripe old age until a heart attack takes ya out."

"But you _know _Gravity Falls is making you sick, Billy! There's a huge difference between simply being near a wolf pack and _taking a piss in their den!"_

I chortle, but Ricky is serious. She glares at me with that angry stare, and I know I'm not going to get her to change her mind easily. But it's not up to her, anyway! This is _my _life! If I wanna stay in Gravity Falls and it means being tired a lot, then that's _my_ business! Ricky sighs, "Maybe if I did something to all the eyes keeping you up. Covered them up, or destroyed them-."

"No way!" I pipe up, barely giving her a chance to finish the sentence "Those eyes belong to me! They're a parta me!"

"Billy, that's ridiculous! They're not a part of your body. They're made of glass and wood, not flesh and blood! Look, Billy, I know you paid a lot of money for those windows, but-"

"No, Ricky! It's outta the question. I wouldn't make you get ridda your eyes!"

"Of course not, Billy, because my eyes are-" but she groans "_damnit, _Billy, why do you have to be so difficult sometimes?"

"It's just not gonna happen, Ricky!"

She leans back on the headboard and crosses her arms "Then we're back to square one: Billy, you need to stay away from Gravity Falls."

"Yanno I can't, Ricky. What about the business? What about my show? And Gompers- who'll spoil him if I'm gone?"

"Gus can run the business," Ricky says, almost too quickly, as if she's been rehearsing this "he's smart, and he's good at making plans. And Gompers did a pretty good job of spoiling himself before you arrived. He'll be fine. As for your show," she puts her arm around my shoulder "Billy, weren't you the one who used to say you wanted L.A., not the backwoods? That you always wanted the bigger audiences? I know you're fond of my town and I'm flattered- really, but face it pal- you're never going to become a big name if you stay there. Only yokels and tourists will ever know who you are, and you deserve to have _everyone _know who you are!"

I, too, lean back on the headboard. Ricky has a good point. A really good point. If I stay in Gravity Falls, what I am now is all I'll ever be. Everyone in that town knows my name and I can use my position as a local celebrity there, but only in that small, rather isolated town. To the rest of the world, I really am a nobody. I am literally William to them. I _do _deserve the recognition.

"What about you? What about Gus?" I take her hand "I...you're my girl. I've never met a girl like you. You know everything about me and nothing I do scares you. Well, most things," I amend. " You laugh at my jokes and you make me laugh. You're amazing! I..." I feel some pressure as I consider saying it, like indigestion. Then I decide to say it anyway. "Ricky, I love you." And the pressure, it's gone, so I smile, glad. "I can't just walk away from ya!"

Ricky smiles, a large, happy smile that reaches her eyes and crinkles them "Billy! That's the first time you've said that to me!"

"I know. Did I wait too long?" I question, and cringe a little.

"That depends. Do you mean it, Billy, or are you only saying that because I wanna hear it?"

I sit up in bed a little more "Doll, I'm serious! I mean, jeez! It's not like those words are the easiest to say! And so I finally say them, and you ask me-"

I've stopped talking because Ricky has put a finger to my lips "Am _I_ the reason you don't wanna leave Gravity Falls?"

"You're _a _reason. A very big reason."

"Then let's elope!"

A shock of electricity goes through me "Elope? Do ya mean-"

"Run away together," she says "like high school sweethearts. Like the forbidden lovers that we are! It can be exciting, Billy. I know Gravity Falls means a lot to you, but the world is fulla so many great places! And we can discover them together. Think about it- I could help you with your act! I'll even let you cut me in half." She asserts.

"Really? You will?!"

"Sure," she kisses my cheek "I trust ya to put me back together again! We can be our own little traveling show!"

I have to pull away from her to think about it. What she describes sounds pretty swell. I'll still be Billy Mischief: Illusionist Extraordinaire. And I'll have the freedom of the open road I had in my previous incarnation as a vagabond, but without the chronic brokeness. And on toppa that, my girl will be at my side. How can it get better than that?

But that word: elope. It has a very specific meaning. "So uh, Ricky, ya wanna get married, then?"

She smiles, but it's that closed lipped, Mona Lisa smile- like she knows a secret about you you have yet to figure out. "I don't know. Do you, Billy?"


	26. Twenty Six: Who Wants a Gompy Wompy?

Ricky and Billy finished their conversation and kissed each other good night. Then, Billy conked out. It was kind of startling given the state he had been in before finally finding sleep, but the heiress had to admit that she was glad.

Now she curled up herself. The only thing rotten about the situation was that Billy wasn't awake to distract her from her own worries.

But sleep did come, eventually. Ricky's dreams were confused, full of road trips, doctor's offices and eyeless people. For a few minutes, she dreamt she had been cut in half, and she was looking at her hips and legs across the room, sitting in a chair, crossed casually. It didn't hurt at all.

She woke before Billy did, and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Ah, indoor plumbing! As much as she liked living with Billy, she did not wish to get used to not having running water. That was one reason to be was glad they had made plans to leave. Maybe the Shack would have running water one day, but that would be someone else's issue.

She luxuriated in the shower until the water got cool and unbearable to stand in. Then she dried herself off and combed her hair. Her hair was short, but she still liked it a certain way. She applied her make up. She didn't really look _that _weird without make up, she decided- Billy just wasn't used to seeing it. After getting dressed, she was hungry, and wolfed down some of the Pent-o-Grams. Billy still wasn't awake. She went outside and had a smoke, then peeked in on her boyfriend. He was still unconscious.

Oh well, he probably needed the sleep.

So she occupied herself by tidying the hotel room and getting their things together and doing little things so that they could make a swift departure. But at around eleven AM, Ricky finally decided to wake him. Checkout time was at 12 noon. Not that Ricky really minded paying the extra expense. She had been brought up surrounded by so much wealth that money was like air to her- what were a few dollars lost here and there? But she was getting impatient, and checkout time seemed like a good excuse as any.

Just before rousing him, she wondered he would remember anything they had spoken about last night, or if he would have folded it into one of his dreams and forgotten. She shook his arm gently and cooed "Rise and shine!" The magician groaned and rolled over in bed. He was now on his back with his arm over his eye. He moved said arm and regarded the heiress. He smiled.

"There's my maybe fiancé."

Ricky exhaled with relief. Well, that part, it seemed, had made an impression. "Did you have sweet dreams, Baby?"

Billy scoffed "Whadya _think?_"

Oh right. Billy didn't dream, did he?

They got their things together, checked out, and hit the road. Heading, in all directions, southeast. They had talked some more that night, and both decided that they would at least have to swing into Gravity Falls before they departed for good. It would so much fun and so romantic to just hit the road and drive off into the sunset together, but that just wasn't realistic. First, the sun set in the west, a direction they couldn't go far in without running into the Pacific Ocean. Second, Ricky's father would absolutely cut her off from her finances once she eloped with Billy. She would need capital once they were on the road.

Which was why her plan was to go back home and make up with her father. State the Billy had done some horrendous thing that the young teenage boys usually do- Ricky hadn't decided _what _yet, but she hoped wanted it to be something that made him seem idiotic and tactless rather than sleazy. She'd spend an evening bridging the relationship with her father, then go out for a drive. Of course, this drive wouldn't be just a drive, and she would have all of her jewelry with her. Selling those expensive pieces she give them some spending money, at least until their traveling act became successful.

It seemed two faced, maybe even cruel, but her father had lost her respect the day he had but Billy in the stocks.

Billy, too, had his own reasons for wanting to return, if only for one night. He said he wanted to put on a special finale performance for the Billy Mischief Carnival of Wonders. "Something fallers will never forget!" Ricky could only hope he didn't leave Gravity Falls with another giant monster rampaging through it.

* * *

"I don't understand, Billy."

They were sitting in the living room, which connected to the store through a door. The door was open, and the door customers came through had changing bells attached to it, so they weren't anxious about missing a customer. They were free to talk as much as they needed.

Gus went on "You're leaving Gravity Falls? Why? Because you had some bad dreams?"

"I _don't _dream, Gus. Ya should know that, by now." Billy said peevishly but Ricky hushed him.

"Gus, I know it's a shock to hear this. Believe you me- it wasn't an easy decision for Billy to make. But he simply can't stay here. It's impossible for him to sleep here." Billy made a face, but said nothing. Gus put his hands on his own face- a nervous gesture.

Ricky had known Gus since they were toddlers, and had been like a sister to him for, it seemed, almost as long as that. They had played in the same woods together, dined at the Northwest table together. Ricky had looked after Gus when he had been sick. When he had enter high school, she has used the influence of her position to subtlety build a network of other bullies that made sure Gus was never himself the victim of bullying. She knew the boy incredibly well. Putting his hands on his face like that meant that Gus was shocked, and in pain, and angry, and trying not to yell, because Gus was good and didn't yell.

"And you're going with him, Ricky?"

Billy grinned and grabbed Ricky's hand "We're getting hitched! Maybe!"

Billy and Ricky had decided not to plan on matrimony. It was, after all, the 20th century now, and people did things differently from their parents. Ricky and Billy were in love and that was all that mattered. If they passed a chapel on their adventures and happened to be in the mood to make it official, so be it.

Gus knew Ricky fairly well, too "What are you gonna do?" He asked incredulously "Get married if you pass a chapel and happen to be in the mood to make it official? Ricky- what happened to your plans of your dream wedding?"

Ricky waved, as if batting away a fly "I made those plans when I was a little girl, Gus! I'm different now. I'm older. It doesn't matter anymore if I have a real swan pond or if the cake is Belgian chocolate or if I have a cake at all. I'm in love! That's all that matters!"

But Billy had got to snickering now, "Lemme get this straight- when you were a kid, you planned your wedding, and you planned on having a swan pond?"

Ricky smiled at Billy "They're beautiful animals! So picturesque!"

Billy snorted "Actually, they're monsters!" He said cheerfully "And that's coming from me! I'd rather walk in on a whole prida lions than a single swan!"

Through this exchange, Gus had been quiet, his hand on his chin, contemplating. Now he looked up "Can I go with you guys?"

Billy and Ricky exchanged glances. If Gus had asked this the night before, Billy would have said, absolutely, without a doubt, yes. Let's bring Gus along with us! That had been his stance back then, but Ricky had artfully talked him out it. It was a little tricky, but it had had to be done.

In the present, Gus went on "You guys are gonna have a show, right? Well I can help with the show! I can make costumes for you guys, and build sets, and talk to venue owners, and sell tickets and- jeez- everything! It'll be the three of us again- going places and having adventures! Us three pals!"

Ricky and Billy paused for a moment before replying.

"Sorry, kid," Billy spoke up "but no can do."

Gus's jaw fell out of place, and he looked to Ricky, then back to Billy "_What?"_

"He's right," Ricky said "you can't come with us."

"But- why?" His eyes opened wide "Doncha want me to come along?"

"It's not that," Ricky said "it's just that you have the store here, and besides, you're still in school."

"But this is Billy's store too!" Gus protested "He's even got the deed!"

"Oh," Billy raised a finger, got up, and ran into the other room. He came back and with the wooden lacquered box the deed to 618 Gopher Road had been found in. He shoved this into Gus's hands "the deed- for you kid! It's in your hands now-literally! That makes it official! Congratulations on being full owner ah the Shack!"

Surprised, Gus popped open the box, finding that the crumbling piece of paper was still there. The fair haired boy tried to hand the document back to Billy, extending his arm straight and holding onto the corners of the box with his fingertips as if it was on fire, but Billy crossed his arms "It's too late for that, Angus! Finder's Keeper's, remember? It's legally yours now!"

Gus gave up and let his arms go limp. He set the box on the freshly cut wood table between them. "This isn't fair!" Gus exclaimed, and gestured to Ricky "_You're _quitting school! I can quit school too, if I want to!"

"That's college," Ricky interjected "college doesn't matter."

"High school doesn't matter, either! I'm still in high school and I'm half owner of a costume shop!"

"Full owner!" Billy corrected him.

Gus stood up and put his fingers in his hair. He looked like he was going to pull his hair follicles out "Billy!" He whined, "I can't keep running the Emporium! Not all myself!"

"Have some faith in yourself, kid!" Billy stood as well, and put a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder "You're clever. Really clever! You don't need crazy ol' me to keep this business afloat- ya got all ya need up there!" He said, tapping the other boy on the noggin.

Gus shook his head "You don't understand. We're so in dept..."

"Get a loan!"

"But I don't wanna get a loan! Then I'll just owe _someone else!"_

"You can always make a buck or two on the stock market," Ricky suggested.

"My Dad keeps saying stock market is a fool's game."

"Your dad obviously doesn't know much about money." Ricky crossed her arms.

But Gus shook his head "You're changing the subject! _Guys,"_ he looked between Billy and Ricky with a desperate, pleading expression "will I ever see you guys again?"

Billy and Ricky exchanged glances, then Ricky exhaled roughly "Probably not. With Billy's condition-"

"Condition," Billy scoffed under his breath "that's a dumb word!"

"Right, well," Ricky said, moving on "Billy shouldn't even be here right now, but he has some unfinished business. Which includes saying goodbye to you, Gus! Anyway, we'll send you lots of post cards from the places we go. Maybe even a photo or two!"

But Gus still wasn't ready to say goodbye "Why can't Billy just, yanno, get rid of his magic or something? Then he could pretty much live wherever he wanted- triangles or no!"

Billy looked at Gus like he had just suggested blowing up an entire country. "Gus!" He gasped, appalled "How can ya even _suggest _such a thing?"

Gus rolled his eyes "Look, Billy, I-"

"No, really!" Billy said, puffing himself up "I _told ya _what my magic means to me!"

"It's _NOT _your magic!" Gus exclaimed suddenly, "It's that demon inside of you!"

"Gus, how many times do I have to tell ya, the demon is _me!"_

Gus shook his head "No Billy, you're wrong! You're just wrong!" He ran his fingers through his hair, and switched to a different approach. "I just can't believe this, Billy. You can't just_ leave_! Come on, Pal! We built this thing together-" he gestured around the room, but he meant the building.

"Actually," Billy said dryly "_I _built it. But I just gave it to you. Consider it a gift!"

"I don't want your gift!" He stood up, and slid the box across the table to Billy and stood up. His arms were straight at his sides and his hands were in fists, his face a shade of hot pink. He turned around on a heel.

"Hey, Gus, where ya headed to?"

Gus stomped across the room to the back door "Don't follow me, Billy! I need to be alone!"

"Gus!" Ricky cried "Come back here! We need to explain!"

Gus turned, standing in the doorway "You two explained enough!" He opened the door and exited, slamming it behind him.

Ricky and Billy exchanged glances after Gus had departed. For once, there was no grin or even a smirk on Billy's face as he said "I'll go after him," and he got ready to teleport away, but Ricky put a hand on his arm.

"No, he'll come around himself." She sighed "I should have explained things better...I hope, at least, he comes back to say goodbye! I hate leaving on bad terms."

Billy frowned "Yanno- we don't have to leave. I could- I dunno- rent a permanent room at the Sleepy Pine Motel..."

"And what?" Ricky questioned "How are you going to get there and back? It's already an hour and a half's journey in the Model L- you can't get there that fast with a horse!"

Billy sighed "I can't rida horse. Ya can't ride something that wants to kill ya. Isn't there a train that goes to Portland?"

"Yeah, and it leaves and come back once a week!"

Billy's face became pained and gazed at the door Gus had exited through "Still though, it's a shame...I hate leaving the kid."

Ricky's heart did a belly flop in her chest. _I know._ She thought _I hate to too. But I don't have a choice..._

Gus didn't get it. Billy didn't get it either, thankfully, because if he did, he would either be highly disturbed or unwilling to go through with this plan. Probably a bit of both. But Gus was a huge reason Ricky was leaving Gravity Falls. And it wasn't because she had any lack of love for the boy. Quite the contrary- her motherly love and protectiveness was as strong as ever.

But she loved Billy too. And Billy wasn't wicked- he wasn't some shyster out to con her out of her fortune. Billy was deserving of her love. Oh, if only Billy _were_ wicked. If only he were the mustachioed villain in a bad movie where Gus got tied to the railroad tracks and Ricky saved him in the nick of time. But Billy wasn't that guy. He cared about Gus almost as much as Ricky did. But he _had _hurt Gus, and Ricky could never let that happen again.

Hence why she needed to separate the two of them. For good. Ricky was not foolish enough to believe that she could protect Gus whenever Billy had a manic episode. She barely understood how his demonic powers worked, and it might just be all she could do to protect herself. Which was fine. If Billy ever hurt her while the phase of the moon or some cut on his arm was making his magic go crazy, that was one thing. If Billy hurt Gus, that was unthinkable.

The only way Ricky could convince Billy to leave Gravity Falls was if she went with him. Or maybe that was the only solution she could think of because some part of her wanted to leave her father's two-faced town.

In any case, she tried to think of the positives of the situation. She had watched over Gus like a mother bird ever since they had both been very young, but Gus was growing up. He kept telling her he disliked her motherly fussing, and that he wished Ricky would treat him like a man instead of a boy. It was time now to stop babying him.

Besides, she had someone else she could fuss and worry over now. It was funny- you would not think so to see them, but once you got to know Gus and Billy, you realized that the latter was, in some ways, more dependant than the former. "Gus is going to be just fine," Ricky said, trying to convince herself as much as Billy "we can get a PO Box somewhere and he can send us letters. And you know how smart he is. He'll get along just great here." Billy still looked unconvinced, so Ricky started to rub his shoulders "Don't worry about him. He's fifteen- people are emotional at that age! Do you remember how you were when you were fifteen?"

The smirk finally came back to Billy's face. Ricky had to admit to loving that smirk and all of his different grins. There were subtle differences between his shit-eating grin and his maniacal grin and his goofy grin that had taken Ricky a year to figure out. Billy could probably have a whole conversation in grins.

"Yeah I do- I was a real monster!"

"Oh, Billy, do you mean to tell me you were a swan when you were fifteen?"

The smirk wavered and Billy looked at Ricky confused for a few seconds before he got it, then he laughed, "Sure I was, doll! You shoulda seen me in my molting phase!"

* * *

How could they? How _could _they?

Gus had left 618 Gopher Road. The boy had charged up the driveway- what was popular called Cemetery Lane by the townsfolk, even though it was not a proper road at all. He turned onto Gopher Road and began south. He walked with his hands in he pockets, his eyes on the ground, and his flax colored bangs over his down-turned face. There were tears in his eyes- hot, shameful things, and he was angry at their presence, but he dare not wipe them away lest someone see him and know what he was doing. And so the boy walked, half blinded by hot tears and not really navigating himself that well.

How could they just _leave _him?

How could Billy just get up and walk away when he had put down so many roots here? The house and the business he had built- did those things mean nothing to him? What about Gus? Was Gus nothing to him?

And Ricky...

Ricky had _always _looked out for him. And she had always been there for him. Her presence was always felt, even if it was subtly, like the warmth of the sun on a cold but bright winter's day. Lately he had found her overbearing- sure. But there were a lot of reasons for that. Ricky was such a pretty girl, and so smart, and so kind. He had a crush on her. And yet Ricky always just wanted to be his mom. That was so frustrating.

Now she was even taking that away from him.

Oh, what was he kidding?

It was all Billy's fault.

Billy was the one who had stolen Ricky's heart from him just when Gus was on the verge of convincing the heiress that he was boyfriend material. He had known Gus had held a candle for her. He hadn't cared as he had swooped in and swept her off her feet. How she had fallen for the nasally voiced, fashionably challenged know-it-all Gus didn't have a clue. Maybe Billy had put a spell on her.

Gus was finally starting to accept that his best friend and his new best friend were in love with one another, and that Ricky would never look at Gus the same way she looked at Billy. He didn't like it, and it still hurt to think about, but he accepted it as a truth. He had nothing against Ricky or Billy individually; it was just when they were together and all dizzy with one another that they became unbearable.

But now?

Now, Billy had decided that wasn't enough to steal Ricky's heart. Oh no. He had to take Ricky away from Gus entirely. Never again would Ricky muss his hair, or take him in rides in her car, or bring him food simply because his father was still working in the mines and unable to cook for him. All those simple, loving things would be gone.

And it was all Billy's fault.

Why couldn't Billy just get rid of the demon? If the demon wasn't around, Billy wouldn't have to worry about wearing that amulet all the time, and those weird visions wouldn't keep him awake. Gravity Falls wouldn't have to worry about another gigantic monster appearing, Ricky's Dad wouldn't have to worry about his store being torched, and Ricky and Gus wouldn't have to worry about their empowered friend accidentally levitating them into the Bottomless Pit or something.

It would make things so much easier! Billy could stay in Gravity Falls, they could keep running the store, and everything would go back to normal. Better than normal. Did Gus really believe that Ricky was so enchanted by Billy because of his personality? No- it was clear she only liked him because of all the fancy tricks he could do. If Billy couldn't make pretty blue flames to distract any her more, Ricky would see what a selfish, arrogant, lying, sarcastic jerk Billy really was.

Gus couldn't go any farther, because a wall of sorts was on his way. He finally wiped his eyes and looked about himself. The fair-haired boy was in his old yard; on his father's porch. He was surprised, because he hadn't stepped foot on his dad's property since the man had thrown him out. His feet must have brought him here, following some base instinct.

_I should go._ Gus thought _I should turn around. Dad doesn't want me here._

Instead, he knocked on the door. He could really use someone to talk to, and couldn't talk to either of his only two friends.

The door opened from within and his dad stood inside. The man regarded the pale haired boy on the porch. With his beard the way it was, covering as much of his face as it was, it was hard to figure out what he was thinking. It always had been, for Gus. Gus father lived behind a wall- an invisible wall of aloofness and secrets, and he allowed no one on the other side- not even his only son.

"Well, boy." His dad said.

Gus stood straight on the porch, his feet spread evenly. There were no longer tears in his eyes, so he need not worry about that. "Hi Dad." He said.

His father did not respond.

"Can I come in?"

"I recall telling you not to come back." Fuller Gleeful said.

Gus felt like he had just been stabbed in the abdomen, and the knife had angled up, sliced his heart, and then drew all the breath out of him. He should have been expecting his father's tight-lipped refusal, but...he hadn't.

Gus struggled to keep his face impassive "Dad, please? Billy is leaving town. I don't know what the do. The store is struggling and I think I'm gonna lose it! I could use some help."

"Be a man," Fuller said, "you chose to live independently. Well, welcome to the real world, boy. Figure it out." And with that, he shut the door in Gus's face.

The pale haired boy simply stood on the step, staring at the pattern of the wood the door was made of. Physically, he was just fine. He was still breathing and his heart was beating. But emotionally, he was breathless.

His hand tried the nob. Of course, it was locked.

The wooden door had a knot in the middle that resembled an eye. Gus had never noticed it before- that is if it had always been there.

Gus couldn't help but to think of Billy, and the weird phenomenon that had been happening to him over the past few days. Billy could see out of the eyes that sometimes appeared in birch tree bark. Could he see out of this two-dimensional eye?

Probably. He was probably looking at Gus right now and having a giant laugh.

Gus's face twisted in rage. "This is all your fault!" He screamed at the eye. He stepped of the porch briefly searched the ground. He found a fist-sized stone, partially buried and with a jagged edge. He dug it out of the soil, raced back to the door and started to smash it into the symbol.

"I hate you! I hate you I hate you! STOP WATCHING ME!"

* * *

I'm on my knees, in the grass in front of the shack, making kissy faces to the fat old goat who had just decided to put his forequarters into my lap. He's turning his neck, pretty much begging for me to scratch the underside of it, and how can I resist? "Who wants a Gompy-Wompy? I do! I do!" I say in sing-song way, scratching him under his chest "Yeah, dat's my guy! Dat's my Gompy-Wompy widdo guy!"

Ricky steps out the door of the shack "You two are so adorable," she says, shaking her head.

An idea suddenly comes to me "Ricky!" I exclaim "We _have_ to bring Gompers with us! We can make him our- yanno, m-"

"Mascot?"

"I was thinking more like 'manager', but same diff!"

* * *

Gus let the stone fall out of his hand. No. This wasn't doing him any good. Billy was just laughing at him so much harder right now.

He turned around, stepped off his father's porch, and walked into the street.

It truly was Billy's fault. All of it- including his dad. After all, hadn't it been Billy who had talked him into following his dream? If Billy hadn't put all those ideas into his head about being who he truly was and demanding his own freedom, Gus would never have left his father's home. Sure, he would be exploding dynamite instead of using a sewing machine, but at least his father would be _proud _of him.

All. Billy's. Fault!

He didn't go far- turning right back into the next walkway. Gus rang the bell and waited. It took a while for someone to respond, as it was a large house, but he knew better than to ring twice. Finally the door opened from within, and he saw the round, mousy face of Wendy the maid.

"Hi, Wendy. Can you fetch Mr. Northwest for me? I need to talk to him about something." Wendy looked skeptical, so Gus added, "Please? Just tell him it has to do with Triangulum and he'll understand."


	27. Twenty Seven: Fatal Freak Axe-ident

Fiera Pitt spread the skirts over the ironing board one by one. These were the new year's fashions. Back in the days of America Northwest, shirt skirts and a boyish figure were all the rage. But Fiera would differentiate herself from that aging has-been. In _her _middle school, all the girls knew that long skirts and womanly curves was the fashion- even if most preteen girls didn't yet have womanly curves to how off. In fact, Fiera counted on this. _Someone _had to be made an example of, why not let it be the undeveloped girls?

She was thinking about this, and about other things, like what she would wear tomorrow. Being monarch of the middle school was a full time job. Fiera didn't have the luxury of taking the summer off because, as soon as she relaxed and enjoyed herself, another backstabbing girl would rise up and take her place. So Fiera had to be constantly fashionable, constantly popular, constantly with her finger on the pulse of Gravity Falls' preteen population.

She put her head up when there was a ruckus. Brutus, the family Rottweiler, had gotten to barking a lot. A barking dog isn't that strange, but Brutus had never been a terribly vocal dog. And yet here he was, not only barking, but snarling and growling as if he was trying to pronounce a speech by Shakespeare. Fiera scowled "Shut-up, mutt!"

"Fiera?" The voice of her father called through the house "Honey? Can you see what's got into the dog? I'm terribly tied up right now!"

Fiera scowled again, but set her iron aside and stepped away from the ironing board "Yes father; right away, father!" She said sweetly, and strode out of her room. She came to the door and stepped into the yard. For a second, she saw a man-shaped flash of light in the yard, next to the mailbox. Blinking in surprise, she stared at the space, but there was no one there except the Rottweiler who was pawing the ground and whining, frustrated.

Fiera closed the distance between herself and the dog. "What is it, boy?" She cooed, scratching the big dog on the back until he relaxed. Her eyes went to the mailbox, where something poked out. She snatched it.

Fiera walked up the porch stairs, whistling for Brutus to follow. Instead going up to her room, she took a turn into her father's office. He looked up from his business. Doctor Pitt had been inundated with orders for the Pitt Cola syrup since Summerween, so you could say that the fake holiday made up by her elder wasn't a total bust.

"What was the dog about?"

Fiera shrugged "I found him barking at the mailbox. Maybe he was mad because you forget to get this?" She handed him the envelope, which he turned over in his hand curiously.

"I could swear I got all the mail this morning...this must have slipped my attention. No return address," he cut open the letter with a letter opener, unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read "congradulations...random raffle...The Club...two tickets..." he gave a small smile, then held up two small piece of paper between his two fingers "Well, what do you know. I've won tickets to that magic show at The Club." He smiled at his daughter "The show's tonight. Would you like to come with me?"

"And watch Bill Mischief talk about how great he is for an hour?" She rolled her eyes "No thanks, Dad. Ask Barbrick."

* * *

Dr. Pitt felt a little self-conscious in his old suit, which was about ten years outmoded, but his son Barbrick Ulysses wasn't nearly as anxious. The Club always had steady business in the summer. Some tourists came to the Gravity Falls just to dine here and to watch Rolf Clubb's acts. He was very talented at finding, well, talent.

And Mr. Mischief was not disappointing so far. Truly, it was the most astounding meal the doctor had ever eaten. Not because of the quality of the food- though the food was quite good- but never before had the doctor sat down to eat and had a firebird of a spectrum of colors fly overhead. The illusion seemed so real that the doctor even reckoned that the bird of fire was even giving off heat as it flew over their tables. Mischief proceeded to regale them with visions of whirling dragons that went to war with the rainbow firebird.

But as some of the regulars had warned, Mischief had a sick sense of what entertainment was. In ten months, they said, there hadn't been single performance that wasn't disturbing or frightening in some way. "Guaranteed to give you nightmares!" Those sitting around Dr. Pitt right now were had gone to see the _Billy Mischief Carnival of Wonders_ every week, and some were even in the habit of attending every show! These were the minority, as most of the Club's patrons were tourists, but there was a corner of very vocal regulars. And, apparently, they _liked _having nightmares.

And indeed, the show turned dark quick, as the dragons finally cornered the firebird and pinned it against a wall, then proceeded to slowly remove its rainbow entrails and scatter them to the four corners of the room, even as the firebird cried out in agony. Rainbow blood was all over the tables and the food and the doctor's clothes, but as soon as he brushed his jacket a little it faded away.

Like many before him, the doctor wondered how the stage magician _created _these illusions.

"For my next trick, I'm gonna need a little audience participation," the caped performer spoke while walking across the front of the stage. "Now," he started counting off the heads he saw in the audience "eeny, meeny, miny...hey!" He cried out in surprise, as his one visible eye found Dr. Pitt "Doc! Boy, I didn't expect to_ see_ youhere!"

The doctor, self conscious, tried to press himself deeper into the chair, but the lighting guy turned a spotlight on him and his table, forcing him and his son to blink "Oops, sorry!" He could hear the magician's voice "Boy Doc, you must be _half blind_ over there! That must _really stink, _huh?"

The doctor's pupils adjusted "I'm alright," he said, finally able to look at the stage, though given that the light was now behind Mr. Mischief, he could only see him in silhouette. The spotlight did not come off the doctor.

"Well, Doc?" The silhouette put its hands on its hips and leaned forward, expectantly "are ya gonna come up or what?"

Embarrassed, the doctor chuckled "Oh, no, no, no- I'm no performer!"

"How can ya say that when ya perform your surgeries with such skill!" Billy exclaimed, which made the doctor inwardly scratch his head. Though he did do some basic surgical procedures- giving stitches and removing tonsils and whatnot, it wasn't exactly his forte.

"I suppose you're right," the doctor said, starting to get annoyed with the spotlight and it's refusal to leave his face.

"Come on, doc! We wanna see ya up here! Doc-tor-Pitt! Doc-tor-Pitt! Doc-tor-Pitt!" He started to chant, and the audience picked up the chant. Dr. Pitt just wanted to melt into his seat, but now he realized that wasn't an option. Certain things were expected of him.

Again he chuckled nervously "Ah, well, if you insist," he said, standing up and adjusting his coat.

Mr. Mischief greeted him when he was on stage "There, there, pal." He put one long arm over the doctor's shoulders and facing the audience. Now that Dr. Pitt was looking at him, he couldn't help but notice how lanky the magician was, like his body had stopped growing but hadn't informed his arms and legs to do the same. _That _was why he seemed so tall and skinny.

"They love ya!" Mr. Mischief informed Dr. Pitt, then raised his cape a little so that there was a blue, cloth wall between the doctor and the magician and the audience. "No hard feelings, by the way." Mr. Mischief said.

"Hard feelings?" Dr. Pitt searched his memory for recent encounters with the magician. Other than passing each other in the store or on the street, they didn't talk much. Dr. Pitt had promoted his drink at the magician's party, and his daughter seemed to have taken a shine to the teenage performer for a moment, like most childhood crushes, it had disappeared before it could make an impression.

The magician grinned, "Ya don't have to deny it. You were just following orders, right? So, the Mackerels put you up to it?"

Dr. Pitt blinked "Are you asking me if I've gone fishing lately?"

The magician's face hosted a rare frown, but that quickly dissolved as a wild grin split said face. He lowered the cape, took a few steps to the side and gestured dramatically to the country doctor with both hands "The inventor of Pitt Cola, everybody!"

Applause went up from the crowd and the doctor smiled. It sure was nice of Mr. Mischief to plug the doctor's invention at his show! He hadn't been obligated to do that. Mr. Mischief then lead Dr. Pitt across the stage slowly.

"So I was talking to a few ah my fans the other day, and ya know what they told me? They told me they wanna see more _danger_ in my show." He spoke out loud so said audience could hear. Clearly this was still part of the performance. Mischief was taking Dr. Pitt over to a kind of bulky object covered with an electric blue sheet. "More life and death; more blood and gore. And I told 'em I'd think about it.

"Well. I thought about it!" He approached the object and lifted the sheet off. What was underneath was a large wooden wheel, standing up, in a wheelbase that allowed it to spin. It was clearly newly built, and painted dark blue with yellow triangles, eyes, and red alchemical symbols. There were four straps on the machine.

"And I figured I'd give them something new tonight. Why don't you step right up, Doc, and I'll help ya get in!" There was a platform for a person to step on. The doctor could now see that one was to allow themselves to be strapped to the wheel. He frowned, as this seemed rather a demeaning sport, but the audience was applauding for him, and there was a certain peer pressure there: he couldn't let them down.

So he stepped up, and Mischief strapped him in. "How's this? Too tight? Don't what your hand turning blue- not that would look just _stupid. _But tight enough so ya can't get out! Ahaha!" He laughed. Had that been a joke? Once the doctor was in, he was immobile, and his arms and legs held prostate. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in.

Mischief walked back across the stage to a wicker box that the doctor only now noticed. "Now when I was a kid living in San Francisco, the circus came to town. Well, the circus came to town a lot, and I always loved it! Inspired me to run away and join the circus later- but enough reminiscing'! Anyhoo, this one time that really sticks out in my mind was when the circus had a knife thrower along with'em," he opened the lid of the wicker basket "of course, I'm Billy Mischief, and I do things my own way." He pulled an object out the basket "Why settle for _throwing knives _when you can throw an _axe_ instead?"

The doctor's heart started to pump so loudly he could hear it in his skull, and he stared at the object Mischief had just removed from the box. It was an old axe for splitting wood, but recently sharpened to a shiny point. It had a sturdy wooden handle, and the head of the axe was a dull dark gray, and it was clearly heavy by the way Billy handled it.

"Now," the magician said "I haven't thrown _too _many axes in my time, but it certainly doesn't look like its hard to do," he said, casually flinging the axe in his hand. Said axe wheeled through the air, spinning but not losing altitude, until, _Smack! _It collided with the wood of the wheel a few feet from the doctor's head, biting into the wood deeply and making it bunch up with fat splinters.

The doctor's eyes grew wide.

Mischief shrugged "See? Duck soup. I could do this blindfolded!"

This was a sort of cue, and young Jersey Corduroy scurried out onto the stage. Mischief crouched down and the young redhead secured a blue swath of cloth around his eyes- one of which already bore an eye patch, which looked strange to the doctor. The cloth of the blindfold matched the cloth the magician's cape was made of. The magician nodded and cast around blindly until he found the wicker basket. He reached his hand in.

"Ouch!" He then smiled sheepishly at what he thought was the audience "Grabbed the wrong end!" The audience laughed.

He then reached in again, this time pulling an axe out by the handle. This time the doctor saw the axe gleaming and he had a little jump when his eyes saw the blade. Somehow, this axe seemed even bigger and sharper than the last one. The boy, meanwhile, had approached the wheel "I hope you don't get motion sickness, Doctor, but I can do it slow if you do!"

The doctor screamed. It was a wordless sound of pure terror that added nothing to the conversation- not to mention not answering the boy's question. At the same time that Dr. Pitt screamed, Mischief pulled his blindfold off. "Wait a minute..." he muttered.

Dr. Pitt expected he magician to be angry at him. He had, after all, just interrupted the performance- and not for any good reason, but because he had let that animal emotion take hold of him. Dr. Pitt was not very proud of himself at the moment. But the magician didn't look angry at all; just thoughtful.

"Axe throwing is _so_ easy," he said to his audience "_anyone_ can do it! And I'm gonna prove it!"

He strode back to the other side of the stage, where Dr. Pitt was still bound to the wheel. "Hey Doc, ya ever throw an axe before?"

Dr. Pitt blinked, bewildered. He finally answered, curiously enough in a voice just as clear and loud as Billy's "Never."

"But ya use blades in your line of work, don't ya?"

Dr. Pitt let out a surprised laugh "The implements I use are much smaller than axes. And they are never thrown!"

Mischief grinned "Great! Hey, Jersey! Help me get'im down. We're switching!"

"Switching?" Dr. Pitt questioned, even as the straps on his arms were undone. Soon he was stepping onto the platform and onto the floor, and the magician was taking his place.

"Y'see?" Mischief said to the audience "Anyone can do this- even a _doctor!" _Again, the audience laughed. "Well pal, whadya waiting for? Go on!" Dr. Pitt went to the other side of stage, nervous apprehension in his breast. For one, the fact that he _was_ on a stage and in front of a good portion of Gravity Falls was worrisome to the doctor. But bigger than that- did Mischief _really _expect him to throw axes at him? He could hurt the boy!

Which, actually, might have been what Mischief wanted? He had said he had been getting requests for more life and death; blood and gore. Dr. Pitt hoped he had been talking about the imaginary kind of death. The doctor had been told that the magician's performances had a tendency to be disturbing in some way, but they hadn't said anything about _real _harm coming to people. Only the psychological type.

He came to the wicker basket and looked in. He saw the way the axes were arranged so that the handles were up, and a small, relieved smile came to the doctor's lips. Mischief knew how these axes were arranged in this box; he would not have cut himself on one of the axes blades- that had been a part of the performance. Dr. Pitt picked up one of the axes and almost did it too fast. That was because said axe was lighter than the doctor had been expecting- as if it was made out of soft pine wood instead of hardwood and steel. So _that _part had been an act too.

The doctor looked up and saw that the audience's attention was on Mischief, who was making jokes while being strapped down. He had their attention and so no one had seen Dr. Pitt's gaff. The doctor reached into the wicker box again, grabbing an axe, this time visually "straining" under the weight of it. He pulled it out and looked at the blade.

Not a blade at all, but an axe-shaped piece of wood, painted a metallic, dull gray color. Up close, it didn't look impressive, but across the stage- or even from the audience- it looked real. Axe head and handle were made of pinewood. The doctor rubbed his finger along the 'edge' as found it to be actually quite dull. The doctor would have felt very stupid indeed for having panicked on the wheel, if not for one thing.

Mischief had thrown one axe at him, and the axe had met its mark. It had chopped into the wooden wheel, which proved a couple of things- that it was heavy, and that it was sharp enough to do so- not like this cheap wooden prop. Perhaps that axe alone had been real? Or was Dr. Pitt holding the only fake axe now?

He put the axe prop back in the wicker box and pulled out a different one, finding this, too, to be light and to have a fake blade. He replaced this for another, and another, and found them all be nothing but props.

"Choosing your weapon, doc? Don't worry- you get to use more than one!" Mischief was strapped in and Jersey's sister Lacey had stepped on stage. The young girl was holding the blindfold out to Dr. Pitt. The doctor allowed her to secure it around his head, making him completely blind. Dr. Pitt stood still, waiting for some kind of cue. After a few seconds he could hear Mischief again "Whenever you're ready doc- take your time! Oh, but seriously, _get on with it! _ The audience doesn't got all night!"

* * *

And so, apprehensively at first, the Doc starts to throw fake axes in the general direction of my voice. The only thing he can hear are thumps seconds after he throws the props overhand. He can see nothing- I'm sure of it. Boy- is his aim sure is bad! He's not even getting _close _to the wheel! He overshoots mostly, and the props go up into the grid and crash around a bit which does elicit a chuckle the first coupla times, but it's not long before my audience is bored and they want to see what I just promised them.

Oh, they'll get it.

It's easy to blame Dr. Pitt for being a terrible shot, but really it was me who put him over there. So I have to take things into my own hands- or rather, mind. Of course, I have been doing that all along.

It's kinda tricky. Even being strapped to this spinning contraption, I've been artfully replacing the fake axes with some axes from a wicker basket near me. These axes are very real- just the kind folks use around here to split their firewood. Yes, there is a flash each time the axes are switched, but the stage lights shine down in such a way as to obscure it. Of course there is the matter of giving the replaced axes the same momentum as the toy axes had had, so they don't just appear to drop in mid flight.

It's a very complicated process, but I'm doing pretty well at it if you ask me. Boy, my magic is performing just great today! Maybe it's all that sleep I got outsida town, but today I'm able to do my magic with more confidence and finesse than I ever remember being able to do. While I focus on switching the axes out and making them continue to arc through the air as if nothing happened, I'm also spinning my own wheel. Yeah- the Corduroy kid isn't _that _strong- I needed to give him a hand.

Once replaced, the real axes crash into the grid making loud sounds. With some eyes I put up their earlier, I check out to see if there's any damage. And while none of the lights have been broken, the structure itself is being knocked around a bit. Good.

I gave him a chance. I gave the doctor a chance to admit what he had done. He had feigned ignorance. What an idiot! Now it was too late for him to apologize. Not that apologizing would have helped him, anyway!

"Come on, Doc, I thought you guys were known for _precision! _You're not even coming _close!" _I taunt.

Seeing that is aim is not going to get any better, and I make his aim better for him. Now the props slice through the air, get replaced by real axes, and actually hit the wheel. When the first axe bites the wheel, just inches from my arm, the audience- which up to this point had been bored in their seats- go wild with cheering. Another axe and another axe land, and the audience sits up straighter, anxious about seeing blood spilt. Some want to see it, and some hope dearly it won't happen.

I turn my head to face them "See guys? _Anyone _can do this!"

_Especially when ya hava demon guiding all your shots!_

It's almost time for the big finale. The audience will never forget this!

* * *

Dr. Pitt was feeling stupid and embarrassed. This clearly wasn't going well. He was missing. He couldn't see, but he could tell he was missing by the reaction of the audience. Laughter at first, then low booing. Even Mischief was taunting him now. What a horrible way to spend a Wednesday night! Could he just go back to his seat now?

But the voice of Lacey Corduroy was there- encouraging him on- to throw just another, and another. Just when Dr. Pitt thought he would never get the hang of it, the audience suddenly went wild with cheers.

Dr. Pitt stood a straighter "Did I just-?"

"You hit, Doctor! Do it some more! You still have some axes left!"

Dr. Pitt allowed a small smile, though he knew he would not be able to do it again. He flung another axe and-

The audience cheered again!

"I think you finally hit your stride, Doctor!"

"Oh, thank God," the doctor said. At least this show wouldn't be a _total _disaster! He didn't know how could bear to sit down again with his son if he messed this up entirely!

He threw another axe, which hit the wheel, and another. Dr. Pitt was forgetting that there was something else on the wheel- something he would have rather liked to miss. That was, of course, until he heard the scream.

The scream emanated from the other side of the room, which encouraged a number of other screams from the audience. It made Dr. Pitt hesitate, but he shrugged. Probably just an audience member getting overly excited, and setting off a chain reaction of sorts. His hand reached from another axe, but someone much closer to him cried, "Dr. Pitt, what did you _do?"_

Huh?

The doctor clawed the blindfold away from his face and looked up. The stage was the same as it had been before- the older redhead on his side and the little boy over by the wheel. Said wheel was still set up through it had stopped spinning, and Mischief was still on the wheel and-

"Oh my god!" Dr. Pitt exclaimed dropping the axe and running to the other side of the stage. Lacey reached the wheel and Mischief on it before Dr. Pitt did. The magician was still bound to the wheel, looking oddly pale and wearing a horrified expression on his face a he looked down at his chest, from which a very sharp axe protruded. The axe stuck out from the magician the way it would stick out from a stump, but blood pooled by it, crimson and sticky.

The axe looked so real- not a stage prop painted a certain way, but a real axe, made of real steel, with a hardwood handle. Dr. Pitt's heart dropped into his stomach. This real axe must have been accidently put amongst the fake ones! Dr. Pitt must not have noticed the difference in weight! Oh, the horrible irony that this axe and this one alone had hit dead center!

Barbrick was on the stage with him. He must have run up when everything had gone sour. The young Pitt handed the doctor a black leather bag that looked bloated at the bottom. His doctor's bag- it was a bit on the superstitious side, but Dr. Pitt always carried this around with him. And a good thing he had this time! He set it on the step stool and popped it oven, taking out some cotton with which to clear the blood away. He was careful not to touch the boy more then neccesary, but his fingers did brush Mischief's bare hand and Dr. Pitt drew back in surprise.

Mischief was cooler than a person ought to be, and his skin strangely dry, as if mummified. He felt more like a piece of timber than a human being. Dr. Pitt blinked, surprised, but then chided himself for becoming distracted from the task at hand. Focus on the wound first- his Mischief had other issues, Dr. Pitt could deal with them later.

But the boy suddenly yelled at him "Don't touch me! Get away!" His voice sounded odd- farther away than it should have been. Must have been the shock of having an axe in one's chest. Dr. Pitt had to say that the axe must have gone in at a remarkable angle. It clearly had not touched the lungs, as Mischief was still able to speak.

"Mr. Mischief, I'm a doctor! I can help you!"

"No! **You've done enough!" **His voice took on a curious tone- deep and almost inhuman. Dr. Pitt ignored it and kept working.

"Dr. Pitt! The ceiling is coming down!"

"What?"

He looked up and his eyes almost bulged out of his head. But he hadn't looked for long, as the Corduroy siblings had joined forces to drag him away from Mischief and the contraption he was strapped to. This just as the wooden grid above their heads came down- timbers and rigging and lights all crashing onto the wounded boy. Dr. Pitt gasped and propelled himself forward, but a spark from one of the lights ignited and the whole pile erupted into orange flames.

Dr. Pitt could not very well get close to Mischief now. But the doctor couldn't help thinking about what he had seen for that split second. Had it been real? Had he been losing his mind?

He had seen Billy Mischief, somehow defying gravity, sitting comfortably in the crook of the roof, hands folded behind his head, legs crossed casually. The boy had noticed him looking and freed his left hand, flipped his eye patch up and waved, a wild grin on his face. The formally hidden eye socket was black; empty.

Which was odd, because Dr. Pitt thought that he had had two eyes that last time he had seem him without an eye patch. Or maybe it was made of glass?

Or, most likely, he was imagining all of it- his brain inventing a vision to distract his conscience from the fact that he very likely had just been the cause of the death of a young man.

* * *

Fella probably thinks he's having some kinda hallucination brought on by guilt. N-ope! I'm really up here!

I'll explain. Y'see I was never run through with that axe. Just before he threw that last axe, I flashed myself out, and I flashed _in _a little something I made today just before going to work- a man-sized dummy, carved outta wood. Then I covered this with an illusion to make it look like me. I did alla this so quick no one really noticed. Finally, I replaced the axe Dr. Pitt was throwing witha real one and guided its trajectory to 'my' chest.

Phew! Sounds a lot more complicated than it really was. Really- it was duck soup! I basically just pulled the old switcharoo!

The only thing I didn't do was the fire. That sparked itself- those crazy, untrustworthy stage lights! But what I did do was convince the orange flames to keep growing bigger and bigger- big enough so that the doctor couldn't get near 'me'. Fella came close to figuring out the kid on the wheel was a dummy and not me! I can't let anything like that happen again!

After the flames are large enough that the doctor is sure not to go running into them and folks are scurrying around the building for the doors and Mr. Clubb is calling the fire department, I leave it as it is. Yes, I am completely aware that the fire might destroy part of or the entirety of The Club. Ricky informed me this morning that Mr. Clubb had wanted to terminate out contract on accounta me missing one show. What a jerk! If his Club burns down becausa that, that's _his _problem!

I take advantage of the panic to flash myself out of the restaurant, flashing back in behind the building. Even out here, people are panicking too much to really take notice of me. In case you're wondering, the answer is yep: Yep, I'm going to let everybody in Gravity Falls think that I'm dead. You may be asking why I would do that and the answer is, why not? I've always wanted to fake my death. It always sounded like a fun thing to do. And now I've done it!

Did I take Dr. Pitt's eye? No I didn't. But as far as I see it, I've just taken something even _more _valuable to him. They won't fine my body and they'll assume the flames destroyed it. He'll probably be indicted for manslaughter at least, not to mention an arson charge, given how quickly The Club is going up into flames. What he looks forward too are much of his fortune spent in legal costs, the stress of court and, hopefully, the loss of his freedom. But even if he never goes to jail, the blemish on his reputation will be something he won't be able to mend. No one wants to go to a doctor that kills people.

The Club just north of the shack, on Gopher Road, and I cut through the woods to get back to my place. I come at it the back way. I know what to expect tonight. Ricky isn't going to be there- she left for her house, and she's going to sleep in her bed one more night while she butters up Parsy. So it will just be Gus, Gompers and me. I sure hope Gus still isn't mad. I still haven't been able to say I decent goodbye to him yet!

The back door has actually been removed from the hinges. That's my first hint that something's wrong. I inspect said door, baffled. Then I shut my eye and summon up that tired feeling so I can take a demonic look inside.

It's not good. It's like a mountain lion's raced through here, knocking over furniture, breaking things, scattering clothes and fabric, pulling down curtains. Someone's trashed the place.

I race inside. The things I see with my fleshy eye when I do match what I saw in my mind's eye. Furniture is knocked over, even splintered in half, and the costumes in the shop have been thrown unceremoniously on the floor and torn up. I continue up the stairs, surveying the damage. Who did this! No really, who did this? And was Gus around when it happened? I ask because I can't see him inside the house by any means. If he was here when the burglars came in, and they did something to'im...!

My whole body flames up, and it goes on for several seconds- long enough to catch on the timbers of the house- before I notice it. I quickly put all the flames out and continue upstairs. I enter my room first, to find the bed quilt thrown on the floor and some of my outfits torn up. Then I check Gus's room which, actually, is pretty much untouched. At first, I'm relieved by this.

"_Baaaaa!" _The sound of keratin clopping on wood accompanies Gompers, who has walked into the room behind me. I take a breath, turn around, and scratch the guy between the horns.

"Hey, pal. How ya doin? Ya didn't see who did this, did ya?"

"_Baaaaa!"_ The goat says, looking up at me.

"Ah, shucks!" I roll my eye "_That's_ no help to me- I don't speak goat!" Gompers moves to the bed, taking interest in something on it, and hops on top of it. I pace in fronta the bed "I can't believe I've been robbed! What did they take? Hey, whatcha got there, pal?"

I hadn't before noticed the large, slightly rounded piece of paper on the bed, but Gompers did and now the goat is chewing on the corner of it. I take the other corner and, noticing that there's words on it, tug it away from the guy. Only now do I realize that's it's not paper at all, but a sheeta birch bark. Gompers is not happy to give up his prize, and he digs his hooves into the bed and tugs against me. Finally the birch bark rips- close to the corner he had been snacking on. Gompers swallows this before I can fight it away from him. I glare at him.

"_Baaaaa!"_ He complains, annoyed.

"Hey- there's a message on it-" I point it out to him "I can't _read it _if it's in your _belly!"_

_"Baaaa!" _Gompers bellyaches again, lifts his head up high and jumps off of the bed. He strides outta the room haughtily.

I read the note. It's written in a kind of greenish ink I've never seen before, and smells vaguely of mushrooms.

**Mr. Mischief**

**You have something we want**

**We have the pale-haired human boy**

**If you want him to live**

**You should come to us**

**Bring no one except for the Abstract**

The signature is loopy, and still in that dark greenish ink. It reads: Colin of the Gnomes.

Red flames eat the letter in an instant.


End file.
